Boundaries of Mirkwood
by Lil'layah
Summary: MetaFanfiction. Someone has it in for the Fanverse of MiddleEarth. Four Mary Sues, unrelated to the LotR Fandom, must combat the evil Nothing and preserve the continuity unraveling around them or die in a strange 'verse. Again.
1. Darkness and Starlight

SUMMARY: A tale of four Mary Sues. My story is a whirlpool where all action and characters begin far apart and slowly spin 'round until they converge in the vortex. Enjoy the ride.

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 1

"Darkness and Starlight"

* * *

It is Gwar the Ur and it waits in darkness. Everywhere dark, dark, the shadows and night, curses! Curses the starlight!

Must wait. Must wait with the dark crawlers in the night, the orcs, we wait, oh we wait and it grins as it watches and waits. Shreds and blood and tearing as they scream in its head. Their white pelts peel off like bark shredded from trees, those rabbits; rabbits with white soft down and pointed ears, they wretch and scream in its head. Black water in its mouth, Gwar can nearly taste their blood. Sweet and salty. All will come as its master promises—he promises rabbits, so long's he's done, so we wait with the crawlers in the night under black shadow and the magic of white powder to make its skins burn, it burns, but it doesn't care about the pain, no, no, it doesn't mind pain. It likes pain. It likes creeping up on rabbits because they cannot see it in the dark with powder on its skin. Shame there will be no more powder after this night—all used up, no more rabbits to hunt, but, oh, they have more than enough rabbits in the hole (though there was the clever rabbit to get away last night, but, ho, it will fade and die and the trees may eat its bones and will die, be assur'd).

Must wait as rabbits move watch in their fowl tree—evil, evil, wretched—must wait to tear trees, must wait. Powder and magic muffles the sounds, but ever is the danger.

Rabbit looks near Gwar, but rabbit does not see it. Gwar hates its stench—stench of rabbit, stench of rain, and grasses. Hates rabbit hands and lines and soft curves and its starlight! Take that starlight, take it and blot it out—blinking, blinking, gone!

A rabbit squeals—a _real_ one, not the rabbits in the air, in their _safe_ little tree—which is a signal for all to hear; crawlers, orc, rabbits, Gwar.

Rabbits alert! They move, ah, they move and its skins burn, its joints ache; they move and Gwar watches in pain! Gwar hears words—the rabbits speak and they speak and its ears—pain and dizzy, but Gwar knows some rabbit speech and they'll send three, three rabbits to see if orc have killed a real rabbit a ways away and they have! They have, and we will!

Always better to divide the rabbits, master says, and he's right; master is always right, and this Gwar knows and this Gwar obeys. Now six little rabbits up and awake and alert and missing three in their little tree awaiting us—we'll have them, so close now.

Snap Gwar doesn't growl, but Gwar would snarl and slice that wretched, loud orc stepping on bad branches, for now the rabbits exchange a glance (they see starlight in each others' eyes!) and they suspect us, they know not _how_, but they suspect fell intent.

A far off rabbit gone to checks for _real_ rabbits cries and no more waiting and it howls in glee.

Take up the sword—the rabbits can barely see through the powder—and crawl, climb, drop down upon the rabbits trapped on their hole! Gwar—its blood boils, it wants to cut the rabbits, all the rabbits, see their insides to stop the lights from coming out, but master wants rabbits whole and ready for ripping later—and since Gwar could never have so many rabbits on its own, without master, The Nothing (makes it shudder!), and white powder, it will wait.

Up with the sword, lunge at the rabbit, his terrible eyes be cursed! Push the rabbit back, push it back into the waiting crawlers, smell his fear—he is in shock and disbelief, cannot see orcs and crawlers so clearly anymore, not with powder in his starlit eyes—and it is hard. Moonlit knives rabbits have and move well, like oil and Gwar's joints ache for seeing rabbits move so freely.

Curses and pain! Curses the rabbit who did shoot Gwar's leg, poor leg—they think it gives the other a chance, but the crawlers have stung them, stung them both and they stumble; they have pains in their joints and Gwar rumbles with the pleasure for they can no longer scream and he falls for being stung, that pretty, pretty rabbit.

Gwar pulls the arrow out of its leg; it smiles for the pain, and see all the dropped little rabbits being wrapped and bundled and ready—it was all flawless, no runaways, it's master's plan, flawless! It howls and sends crawlers scattering, it kicks the limp rabbit, can smell his fear. The body turns over and Gwar rumbles; the starlight has dimmed in his eyes!


	2. Abigail of Wellington

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional but with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 1

"**Abigail of Wellington"**

* * *

"_Mistress Mary, quite contrary, _

_How does your garden grow?_

_With silver bells, and cockle shells,_

_And marigolds all in a row."_

_-Nursery Rhyme_

* * *

Old, arched windows aligned neatly in a row cast amber shafts of light onto equally symmetrical rows of books. Made of dark, ornate wood and nearly reaching the ceiling, the bookshelves numbered upwards of forty. All the books were neatly stacked, never over-capacity as in some ill-kept libraries in which their contents teetered on the verge of a landslide. Not here.

A petite figure stood at the end of a row bathed in sunlight. Long, lovely, blonde hair tied back tight swished about madly. Her eyes raked over volume bindings guided by quick, polished, and nimble fingers. She was, as some of the local boys had uncovered one day whilst attempting to ascertain the exact geographical location of Timbuktu (for the purposes of annoying a certain over-bearing professor to which they succeeded), an intriguing and engrossing figure. None of them had yet approached her.

Today, she'd thrown on cream cardigan over a silk camisole adorned in a pattern of pink roses over her favorite long, pale green wool skirt. Her attire was usually chosen that it might give her the appearance of her true age, twenty two. Based on her stature alone, one may have easily mistaken her for a twelve-year-old. Fortunately, she was gifted with distinctly feminine curves, allowing strangers to at least grant her the benefit of having gone through puberty. If that did not sufficiently convince them, usually she only need open her mouth and recite her favorite passages from Chaucer's Troilus and Criseydein perfect Middle English ("Nas nevere yet seyn thing to ben preysed derre/ Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre") and then, on occasion, would be mistaken for a professor.

There were no admirers today. Not that Abigail would have noticed them, for she loved the books completely and they absorbed all her attention. Love called from the binding crackling in anticipation as the cover was opened, the way they pages sensuously arched towards her, the words begging for her eyes to ravage them (as Chaucer would certain delight in such a description of them!). Their fresh, clean scent, their smooth touch, the rough bound, embossed covers; their whole being engrossed her. While other little girls had a favorite doll to take to bed, Abigail had a favorite book (Harold and the Purple Crayon, by Crockett Johnson, although, to be fair, she also had a favorite blanket).

A faint gonging of the university clock tower drew Abigail from her work of re-shelving. With a sigh of annoyance, she picked up several heavy editions and briskly strode through the dimming beams of light toward the front desk.

Her confident stride slightly faltered at the edge of a stairwell spiraling up to the second story's children section. Memories of faded youth struck her. Of Harold and her golden childhood. Of lazy afternoons spent in sprawling New Zealand fields with sheep grazing off in the distance, their baying adding faint music to the breeze. Reading was endless then for it was without the obligations of term papers. It was merely a game for her pleasure, not a means to an end grade. According to her schedule, she should shortly be attending lecture for three hours. The topic was a dusty 15th century piece of literature, and she found this particular professor's voice irritating. Going and listening to some literati drone on about assonance (which she felt the other students should already know) suddenly felt unbearably pointless. Pining, her throat tightened with longing to go back to the way things were before. Back when reading was for reading.

It struck her then that she didn't technically have to go to class. She was getting straight A's and so long as she meticulously read her chapter (which she already had), lecture wouldn't prove any assistance other than solidifying the material she'd already learned (which didn't serve much of a point being as it was about the consistency of concrete). And if her professor inquired as to her absence, some subtle subterfuge would suffice for her prior attendance record was impeccable.

Yes. A little foray for one evening couldn't possibly hurt. It'd probably do her some good. Finals would be coming up shortly and it'd be best to get her tension out now while she still could.

She deposited the large, cumbersome tomes on a nearby table and climbed upstairs twirling a silver ring on her finger, as she had a habit of doing when nervous or excited.

Immediately the atmosphere changed. These neat rows of metal shelves were still immaculately kept, but were definitively different. Standing little more than a meter tall and adorned with cartoon book characters in every variety of color (not to mention stationed over the large block alphabet on the well trampled carpet beneath her feet), they stood in joyful contrast to the gravely stoic monument to learning below.

Enraptured and suddenly struck with a fancy, Abby began to giddily riffle through the Rs in the fiction section with all the assiduous care she gave to the tomes, until, at last, she reached Rowling. The library, of course, had multiple copies of all the books in the series, but the majority had been made off with. This didn't frustrate Abby in the slightest. A broad smile covered her face, immensely pleased by the knowledge that among the Wellington children, at least sixteen were happily engrossed with the misadventures of Mr. Harry J. Potter.

Tucking The Philosopher's Stone safely into her backpack, Abby barely caught herself from skipping out of the library (and it's lucky she did because the pinched-looking librarian would have disapproved of skipping employees).

Situating the brown bag on her shoulders, Abby walked with her bike across the student speckled lawn to the narrow creek behind the library. Back there was a lovely grove of old holly trees, a winding creek running through it, and a wooden bridge crossing. The light may have been a bit dim, but was serene, infrequently traveled, and the wider branches looked like an inviting spot to sit and read. She leaned her bike against a post on the bridge and carefully climbed onto the rail (risking redundancy, Abby was rather short) and reached for a lower branch. Despite her size, she was strong from lifting tome after tome and a superb climber due to her rather out of character affection for rock climbing.

Trusting in her sturdy Doc Martins to grip the rather narrow rail, she grasped onto the equally sturdy-looking branch and began to pull herself up, eyes focusing on the safer part of the limb closest to the trunk, just out of her reach. As she brought one leg up, the limb creaked in protest. Her position was precarious; two hands and one leg on the branch. With all her body working to bring her upright, reaching for another branch to steady or catch her self should the limb fail was out of the question.

With utter finality, a loud crack sounded as the limb gave way. Blindly, she reached out, merely grasping onto a feeble twig which promptly snapped. Abby's heart rose up in her throat as she fell in panicky swiftness toward the shallow brook below. For some time there was naught but darkness after.


	3. Niobe of St Andrew's

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 2

"Niobe of St. Andrews"

* * *

"_Ah! never more shall Mary hear_

_That voice exceeding sweet and low_

_Within the garden calling clear. . ."_

_-Richard Le Gallienne (1866)_

* * *

Everywhere Niobe looked she saw white. Light faces with light hair in a brightly lit, white-walled chilly room. The art was the other; it was the eye catcher, the color, and the display. Such museums begged pardon of the artwork they housed, apologizing for whatever distracting offense their walls and floors and ceilings may cause. _Mind not this thermohygrographe_r, Niobe imagined the building saying of an unobtrusive device half hidden in the corner. _It only monitors the temperature, and humidity, and every breath you mortals take, lest your decay taint the true immortality of art for those who will follow._

Niobe stifled a laugh before it could burst out. It would hardly do to be seen laughing at the wall (_overtly unobtrusive as the silly things wish to be_), and she was glad faint blushes were hard to detect on dark skin, never mind that there was no one around at the moment to see it.

Niobe casually doubled back past a group of giggling children ogling a naked statue (_Children and the fine arts are oil and water; blessed are they, the oil!_) to find her boyfriend, William, deeply engrossed in a dark painting of two cottages. His eyes remained fixated as she snaked her arm around his white sleeve and leaned against him.

_I do not care for this picture_, Niobe thought as William drew closer, enjoying how her warm touch drove out the museum's chill.

"Look at the brush strokes. They all run diagonally, from here at the right, to the bottom left. And here, the colors." William pointed to the sides of the cottages nearly over-run by the lush, deep green. "It's as if we're tricked into believing everything's dark at first, but look how bright the sky is near the mountains."

William chanced a glance at Niobe, whom he realized was studying him far more intently than the painting. He shut his mouth, disappointed she wasn't taking much interest in one of his other passions.

Her rich voice responded to his unspoken thoughts, evoking the very same infatuation in him now as it did the first time he'd heard it. "I seem to recall it was _you_ who dozed off somewhere in the middle of Messiah." That voice; it was feminine, yet never trill or flighty. It was the deep voice of an ageless woman simultaneously belonging to all and no time. He was in awe of her; not that he'd admit it anywhere outside his own mind.

"Besides," she whispered low and conspiratorially, leaning into him as his body unconsciously melted into hers. "There are things in museums more fascinating than the artwork."

Will turned to her, meaning to make some witty retort about carpet, but it died on his lips. Ever were her semantics loaded with meaning, and her eyes never lied; they met levelly with him, and in her infinite brown depths, wreathed by the wrinkles of her smile, he saw all the strength, joy, and love he'd ever want. "Yes, another thing. But only when you're here."

Her mirth, and perhaps a bit of embarrassment, could be traced through her pressed lips, delighted eyebrows, and rising shoulders until the laugh she tried to hold in broke out, and William allowed himself a smile of satisfaction. Wrapping her arms around him, she said, "Will! I don't think I had an ego before I met you."

"No, you only lacked a sense of humor," he jested.

Niobe laughed again, pulling on his sleeve in the direction of the next museum exhibit. "I had a sense of humor; I just kept it to myself."

"Did not," Will snorted, but only to egg her on in show. "You were raised by nuns. Dumb nuns, no less."

Niobe knew the game well, and was a master in her own right. "One finds that with vows of silence, you don't miss all the mind-numbing chatter."

William kept a step behind her, just to watch the poise of her back and stride. The purple dress she wore for her recital in St. Andrew's floated in waves around her long legs. It must have been getting late; she was leading him toward the exit. "I'm mind-numbing chatter now, am I?"

"Never." Niobe put on an exceptional show of being scandalized. "You're my trophy blond boy-toy and arm-candy for after recitals."

Will nearly choked on his laugh, but held his straight face. "I knew there was a reason you keep dragging me to these awful, four hour dirges."

"You could at least _pretend_ to enjoy my music."

"I like _watching_ you play _your _music," Will specified.

"You may watch me play tonight; what is the difference if I am on a stage?" Niobe asked.

Will hesitated. It felt like there was a difference, but he really had no way of explaining how he disliked the admiring gazes of. . .well, anyone who hadn't any business admiring his girlfriend. "There are French horns. I hate those. Just when I'm comfortable and about to fall asleep, they go forte and blast everyone awake."

"Hmm. I can think of a remedy for that," she said thoughtfully.

He raised an eyebrow; he was a master at this word game. "Excellent. We'll take out the French horns before curtain."

"No, I do not think there is anything which could avail us of their gregarious tendencies. But, if you behave yourself this evening, perhaps I might consider giving a _privet_ recital," she said conspiratorially, wagging an eyebrow.

Will skipped a step, nearly tripping; triumph was in Niobe's eyes. "_Privet_ recital?"

"Mmm-hummm." Niobe entered the coat room backwards and beaconed Will after with her index finger. After a glace back to see if any attendants were watching, he eagerly followed, pulled her close, and forcefully kissed her. He expected her to put it to an end shortly; it was a public place with kids running around, and he'd be getting a _privet recital_ later, so no complaints from his end. But she was atypically responsive, pressing for entrance into his mouth which he willingly obliged, raking up his hair with one hand while playfully scratching his back with the other. A minute passed, and he pulled away at the sound of voices somewhere outside the room. Niobe looked disappointed.

"Don't want the kiddies walking in on us, do you?" He asked playfully, but her grin was much more a grimace.

"They would have seen less in here than what's on display out there."

Will laughed, hoping it would be contagious, but her smile remained without heart. Preventing her from reaching for her coat, Will snatched her back and held her tight, and she reciprocated, laying her head on his shoulder, her braids and their rosewood beads splaying over his arm. "Niobe, tell me what's wrong."

Her chest against his, he could feel the words she spoke vibrate through him. "I felt ill for a moment; it has passed."

Will frowned. That was no answer, but a nagging voice in his head told him she was unlikely to provide anything better at the moment. He brushed his lips against her cool, broad forehead. Her scent hinted of Sandalwood. "I love you."

Clinging to his white sleeve, Niobe smiled, contented. "I love you more."

He laughed.

* * *

"We'll be late," Niobe baited him. "I am late to my concerts, always because of you. What am I to tell Mark?"

William sent her a coy smile, holding onto her waist. She sat upon the handrail of the ferry boat since the seats inside had all been filled prior to their tardy arrival to the dock. The air was frigid; the sky threatened to downpour at any moment.

"Tell Mark your good for nothing boy-toy dragged you to the other side of the island."

"Which you have." Her voice dripped of distaste, but her smile was broad.

"And back again." He could feel her slightly shudder under her black wool coat, and his fingers reflexively tightened. "Are you cold?"

For Niobe, it wasn't just the cold. A frost of apprehension was developing over the perennial joy she usually felt when with William. It was something that shouldn't have been there considering she'd practically glowed through their excursion at the museum. Knowing he would drag her inside if she said yes, she disbanded him with, "No, the hills are lovely; it is this wind and gray."

"It would be nice if the sun came out."

"Gbadu isn't fond of it either." Niobe adjusted the strap to her violin. The wood could warp in this kind of weather.

William always hated it when she became distracted like this. She spoke of nothing as though she could surreptitiously change the topic without his notice. Her typically sturdy frame would shudder under his touch, but she would never tell him what was wrong. "How about I run in to the concession and bring you some tea?"

Those white marble and chocolate eyes lit up just as he knew they would, bringing her back from wherever she'd been. He adored that look.

"Scalding?"

"Right." William knew she just wanted to hold it to keep her fingers warm. Affectionately pecking a kiss on her cheek, he left to fight his way through the line. It was over his turned shoulder Niobe noticed a man scowling at her. There may have been a thousand reasons for him to do so, but she suspected it had to do with how very out of place she was. She loved William to no end, she really did, but he had two flaws: his irrepressible passion for Niobe occasionally resulted in an inability to reign in his emotions and his sometimes endearing, sometimes annoying tendency to forget her color. Now that he had left, she desired his presence more than a warm cup of tea, but for pride's sake felt it silly to call him back.

Looking to the slate gray skies and the thick, deep green hills rolling among jagged cliffs, Niobe concentrated on breathing in the sharp cold air. Not so very long ago, she had used this same technique to loosen her nerves before a concert. The fact that this did not calm the nervous tension building within her mind this time disturbed her. Something was not right. The pressure in her chest would not abate and it forced her to turn her attention back to the boat. She realized that the man who had been scowling moved some time during her thoughts to a few meters away. There was no sign of William.

Returning after a brief wait in line with two foam cups of with scalding tea, William found a calmly simmering Niobe being sniped at by a grizzly looking local. Her face was a mask of calm, but her lean hands were tense and faintly twitching in her lap. Niobe was embarrassed and worried. Passengers nearby were vividly distasteful at the wobbling man, but saying nothing. He couldn't exactly hear what was being said—the maddening buzzing in his ears caused by his furry was too loud for that—but he clearly understood the other's intonation; slurred, inconsiderate, and inappropriate.

The irate and slightly intoxicated man, in his audacity, had moved too close to his desperate heart's love. Swiftly, William stalked up with only Niobe noticing his presence. It was apparent that she didn't want a scene. She had that look of warning in her eyes and used a subtle, solemn shake of the head. Niobe didn't condone forceful action and William knew it, but she didn't understand. That something would happen to her was his only fear, and for the past year all he wanted was to keep her safely by his side. Her pain was his. Her heart was strong enough to take the abuse, but his was not.

Without an introduction or ascertaining what precisely had been said said, William tossed the tea (scalding) into the drunk's face. Three things then happened very quickly. Niobe reached for William to prevent a fist-fight, the blind, inebriated Scot swung a crazily off-center left hook, and William dodged it.

Niobe was hit solidly in the chest and her out-stretched arms flew over her head. The blow struck with enough force to set her seat on the railing off-balance, the weight of her violin the deciding factor. Her feet flipped into the air. There was hardly a drop to the water; her heart pounded in her chest in a futile surge to protect her. William turned and flung himself toward her, but all her could grasp at was air. The last face Niobe saw was that of a desperate William, his arm outstretched, reaching towards her in agony but all in vain, before being submerged in the frigid black of the loch.


	4. Arielle of Cedar Brook

Boundaries of Mirkwood  
Chapter 3  
"Arielle of Cedar Brook"

* * *

_"Whatever happened to Mary?"_  
_-Chumbawamba_

* * *

Attempting to find a parking space at 7:45 AM in the Kennedy High parking lot was akin to finding a decent man; all the good ones were taken, and the rest were handicapped.

Not that there weren't plenty of guys in the throng of students. In fact, there was an odd, slightly out of place group stationed in the vicinity of the side doors. Nearby, the girth of four motorcycles took up the first two spaces. The guys seemed to be guarding them against the cars that were slowly but dangerously fighting to find any meager opening.

A blur of yellow and black sped between some cars like an angry bumble bee, popped up over the curb, and drove down the sidewalk to avoid a line of cars. Its owner parked right up next to the side doors, bypassing the usual parking system to either the shock or amusement of the students who had walked there all the way from Siberia.

The rider didn't notice them or the boys who were now staring. She turned off the yellow Vespa. One leg lifted to dismount, the skirt rose, and with practiced ease, the rider maintained her modesty to the chagrin of her admirers. The black helmet was removed and a mass of red-gold hair tumbled out.

She secured her bike without a second glance at the others. It came as no surprise to her that she looked out of place. Today, Arielle had awoken feeling "crappy" or more precisely, anxious and tense without any obvious reason to be. Thus, she'd taken a more eastern approach to dressing for the day whereby her outward, beautiful presentation to others would be reflected back upon her. By this logic, if they thought she looked good, she'd feel good. There were statistics to prove it worked. She'd chosen peach silk shirt with gold lotus blossoms and her favorite long, black, sleeveless jacket. And black knee high boots. Arielle was a sucker for comfy boots.

As she ignored the appreciative glances, Arielle decided that statisticians were liars. No amount of sprucing up would get rid of the shifting ire in her chest. Logically, she should feel great. Just the other day, she'd sent in a manuscript to be published, and according to her editor, all was pointing towards success; editors loved Iowans as the state tended to produce more poet laureates and Pulitzer Prize winners and bestsellers and editors than a rural state logically should.

She grimaced as she heaved her rather heavy bag on her back, causing the content in her chest to nauseously shift in her ribcage.

Getting it finished should have been a good thing; why all the trepidation? Why the stupid oppressive feeling in her mind? Could it be. . .no. Nothing was going to happen. This was Iowa. Nothing happened here; nothing but corn.

Arielle didn't really have to push her way through the crowds; they had an annoying way of avoiding her. She glanced with distaste at a bottle blonde freshman who must have chugged an inordinate amount of Sunny Delight in order to get that ever so stylish orange hue in her tan. The girl caught Arielle's glower and scampered.

A shadow emerged beside her.

"Morning, Nathan." Arielle greeted.

"Morning indeed," he scoffed, sounding about as troubled as Arielle felt. "Is there a reason you look so festive?"

"Speak for yourself." It seemed to her that Nathan had finally deemed it chilly enough to break out his trench coat. "Keep that thing on and Dr. W will throw you out."

His dark eyes narrowed at her mention of Dr. W. "It's windy. I'm wearing a coat. I see no fault, and as I've been wearing it for the past three years of my obsession with the X-Files, the Wookie can do what she will." He then scrutinized his friend whom he felt looked a little too pale; granted, she was usually pale, but. . .

"How are you feeling?"

She snorted. "Grouchy. Goddamn lechers in the parking lot."

"That's not what I meant."

"_Fine_."

"You did just have open heart surgery two weeks ago, didn't you?"

"Yes. And?" she challenged.

He shut his mouth. There was no way to get her to talk when she was like this. Hell, she'd been sick for months and months before the surgery without saying a word to anyone. Side stepping a foot that jutted out to trip him, he accidentally bumped her. Immediately, he sent her an apologetic look. It was totally inconsiderate, running into a girl who'd just had open heart surgery. She didn't seem to mind, but sent the foolish jock that had pulled the stunt her trademarked glare-o-death.

"Watch where you're going, fag," but the jock refrained from continuing with this line of conversation when he met Arielle's hardened gaze. She was gorgeous, knew it, and had the most perplexing way of keeping everyone at arm's length with it. Then again, it may have had something to do with the rumor involving Arielle, the football captain, and a testicle retrieval operation.

"Did you hear something Arielle?" Nathan asked, scowling and resettling his backpack on his gangly frame.

"No," she replied, breaking eye contact with the now skittish jock. He backed away, holding a thick biology textbook over his genitals.

"Something else wrong, you know, aside from those asses?" Nathan attempted.

Thankfully she didn't get angry, but just sighed. "Nothing I can figure." With those creases in his forehead, he didn't look so good himself; "You?"

He frowned and tilted his head toward a slightly less dense alcove. This was not normal behavior for Nathan; there were only a few minutes before class and students like them were never late. If what he had to say couldn't wait, it was important.

"What?" Arielle asked.

After looking up and down the hall, he said, "I think they're planning something."

"The jocks?" Arielle snorted as if he were making a joke. "Is it a kegger? Should I bust out my stash?"

He shook his head. "No. Those hot-headed mafia kids."

She raised a brow.

"They're cowards, I know. But they're stupid cowards in a large group. Like those fucking jocks."

Arielle laughed. "The Coats worship you."

"They don't fucking know me! They stole my coat, have ruined my reputation as a band geek, and they don't even watch the X-Files!" Nathan snapped back, but quickly calmed at the sight of Arielle's wry smile. "You changed the subject again. What's with you?"

They both started off to Tsang's room again. Arielle frowned. "I have a bad feeling. Just. . .I sent in my manuscript."

"That's great." Nathan lit up. He knew she was going to do it, but hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"Something's wrong. Something else." She pulled the classroom door open and they both entered into a room hung and decorated with Chinese calligraphy, and smelling of stir-fry and faint of jasmine.

"You don't think it's finished?" Nathan asked, puzzled.

"Yes and no. It's good, I love it, but," her eyes pleaded with her old friend. "I feel like I submitted it because I was out of time."

The bell rang and Eddie Tsang took out the syllabus overhead. It was the exact same thing he'd done every morning for the past 34 years at Kennedy, in Iowa.

"All of you who hand in Oedipus essay today, you get special treat! Birth control candy!" Tsang announced. Mumbled groans went around the classroom; the joke about white rabbit candy being "birth control" was old. Like three years old. "Also, I want to remind you tonight is Asian Awareness. We have lots of fun, we do Gung Fu! Arielle presents, and if you be her guinea pig, I give you five Tsang dollar."

Arielle smiled to herself. Was she embarrassed? Yes, but it was Tsang, and her Chinese English teacher had an infectious sense of humor. She'd started learning "Gung Fu" from him after she enrolled at Kennedy. The lessons held at the local martial arts gym were a blessing; an outlet. It was Tsang who'd recognized her malcontent with the mundane rut her life had fallen into and drawn her out. He'd been in the same class as Bruce Lee back in the day and often kicked the crap out of him. Had photos to prove it too. Appealing to Arielle's fascination with his youthful exploits, he'd convinced her to join up one day when she stopped by after class to discuss Camus. It'd also kick-started her writing into over-drive. With mental and physical exercise to occupy her, her life had crawled out of that terrible rut.

Unfortunately, the master was getting old now. He was close to retirement, though Arielle suspected he'd never stop teaching. It was in his blood.

A particularly upset girl bustled past Arielle.

The thing about Tsang was that he was hard. That essay, five pages on Oedipus, was assigned two days ago. It would have the most strident expectations and format to follow, making achieving an A close to impossible save for a few. Arielle knew most of the students resented the old man. Only those who actually wanted to be prepared for college took him, and the rest sought out easier routes. Tsang's teaching strategy was to make these first two months particularly rough just for the purpose of weeding out students who weren't willing to expend the extra effort. She'd found it amusing to watch bottle blondes and streaked, spiky haired boys in retarded, trendy Old Navy clothes (because they all wore the same Goddamn thing) "humph" and walk out on the class.

Arielle frowned. Nathan had taken his essay out already and was about to turn it in.

She stopped him. "I'll take it up for you."

He sat back, and handed it to her with his thanks and a smile. "Just don't forget my birth control."

Two weeks ago, a couple Mafia Coats had quit while raising a ruckus. Yelling and cursing at Tsang, they'd left in a huff. Arielle had gotten the feeling they'd expected Nathan to leave with them, and by association, her. That had bugged the hell out of them then. It even irritated her now just thinking of it as she presented their papers to Tsang.

"You ready to present tonight?" Tsang asked.

Arielle forced a smile. She didn't feel up to it at the moment, but she'd never been one to back down on a promise. Before school let out, anything could happen. "I have my uniform in my bag; lesson's all set Mr. Tsang."

He smiled back. "You do well, I give you extra crabmeat rangoon Friday." His mouth dropped open as if this were a big shocking surprise.

She didn't have to force a smile this time; his cheer was contagious. Even if she did end up laid flat out on the cafeteria floor and concussed, he'd still give her an extra treat. "Thanks Mr. Tsang."

"Here you go; two white rabbits." He had a goofy way of putting her at ease. The tense sickness in her gut began to abate as she unwrapped the white candy and popped it in her mouth. Yet the moment she turned away to go to her seat, the unease took hold and everything slowed. The wooden door made a sharp clatter as it impacted the wall. There was a Coat standing in the frame. Tsang shouted.

Arielle saw nothing; heard nothing but murmurs. She could only see the gun and knew its trajectory.

Tsang.

Arielle didn't think; movement was instinct. There was pressure in her chest; ribs cracking, sinews snapping, giving her mind a split second to wonder why there wasn't more pain which promptly struck. She had a clear view of the stunned Coat, momentarily still. Just long enough for an enraged Nathan to rip the gun out of the Coat's hand and bash it over his head.

Tsang knelt over her crumpled body, the peach silk turning red. He was shouting in Chinese (_or was he?_). Nathan skidded to a halt, thrown down on his knees trying to comfort her as the others ran out of the room, trampling the Coat as they left, alerting other rooms with their cries.

Nathan was crying, along with Tsang. Arielle wanted to tell them it was alright; it hurt, she couldn't breathe, this wasn't much different from open heart surgery, it would be alright. Her time might have been up, but she wasn't finished yet


	5. Yumiko of Shinjuku

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 4

"Yumiko of Shinjuku"

* * *

_Mary had a little Lamb_

_Whose fleece was white as snow, _

_And everywhere that Mary went_

_The Lamb was sure to go._

_-Nursery Rhyme_

* * *

Yellow-gold autumn sunlight flooded into the halls of the deserted junior high, spilling into bright reflective pools on the linoleum. Orange, red, yellow, and brown leaves outside in the high canopy festooned the walkway as festivities were underway.

Autumn meant two wonderful things; Obon and time for the annual Sportsfest at Shinjuku Senior High School.

Yumiko loved her school when it was quiet like this. The modern white walls, metal lockers, and linoleum were off-set by the paper lanterns, calligraphy banners, and water colors. She liked it even better when it was noisy.

Without decorum, Hana snatched the back of Yumiko's collar, yanking her back to the point of nearly choking her, and pulled her friend into a run. The daydreaming schoolgirl hardly had a moment to snatch her heavy backpack from the floor as her friend forcefully pulled her along like a disobedient child.

«Quick, archery starts in ten minutes! You're already late!»

Nimbly, Yumiko caught her feet and began racing down the corridor. A steady stream of music and voices drifted through the empty passages, their pounding footsteps echoing. Hana skidded as she round a corner to the right, and began bolting down steps two at a time.

Yumiko didn't slow. Her lithe figure hurtled the banister. With the grace of a cat, she fell the short distance down to the second flight and the slanted rail below, one hand gripping the slanted rail, two feet firmly planted upon it.

She grinned at Hana who was on the flight of steps adjacent.

«No fair!» The words hardly left her mouth before Yumiko dropped once more. Hana could barely keep up. Before she hit ground level, Hana took Yumiko's example to heart by jumping the last rail and landed six yards behind her.

Yumiko laughed, her face's hue reddening at the expense of the other girl. «And you're the one on the track team!»

«_Baka_! One misstep and you could have been killed, Yumiko. Don't do that!»

Yumiko just grinned cheekily and dashed for the door, exuberantly shoving it open so hard it connected with the outside wall and vibrated violently.

Sunlight and sound cascaded over them as they charged out across a narrow street and over the grounds. The smell of fresh cut grass wafted over the crisp air. Students littered the grounds turning it into a sea of green, black, and white as all were in their school uniforms for the competitions.

The two deftly zigzagged through the throng of students. Hana once again found herself amazed by her friend's ability to narrowly avoid plowing over bystanders. It was a show in dexterity; narrowly skirting collisions, she'd swiftly dodged obstructions even with her rather large backpack on.

«Misuzu?»

«_Hai_.»

«Cho?»

«_Hai_.»

«Miazawa?» The teacher attempting to complete roll-call was met with silence as Miazawa Yumiko raced up behind her. «Silly girl is late ag. . . »

«_HAI_!» Yumiko shouted from behind, startling Tanese-sensei into crying out and dropping her clipboard. The teacher rounded on the giggling fourteen-year-old.

Yumiko grinned flippantly, her composure the perfect impersonation of oblivious exuberance. «_Hai_, _domo_, present and ready for competition Yoko Sun Sensei!»

Tanesse-Ito Yoko was able to squelch down her frustration toward the careless youth with a good deal of difficulty. With all the archery students and the large crowd gathered and watching, she preferred not to shout. All the students liked Yumiko immensely for no respectable reason she could discern. Tanese-Ito sensei got the distinct impression they were, in part, laughing at her.

Because of all the reckless, wild, inept youth she'd met, her initial evaluation placed Yumiko in the category of "liable to shoot herself in the face while using her toe to draw." Expecting the youth to be the most destructive threat to safety she'd ever known, she'd been stunned to see how quickly Yumiko caught on. The girl didn't really practice. It seemed that it was dead instinct she shot with; the same uncanny instinct she used to avoided danger and causing damage to others. No, Yumiko was not a hazard. Her concern was for on the other student archers. Every time Tanese-Ito sensei thought about them taking up Yumiko antics without being as adept at side-stepping logic and injuries made the teacher want to pull her hair, screaming.

Within ten minutes the contestants were ready to go, in position, and poised to begin.

Tanese-Ito sensei inclined her head to Yumiko, who took the cue and readied herself.

Lightly poised on the balls of her feet, Yumiko awaited the shouted signal to draw. The wind blew crisp, stirring up bright dry leaves. It caught her hair, lifting it from her shoulders.

On the mark, fluidly, she pulled from her quiver and set the arrow, knocked, and drew. The rest of the world phased out. All her being went into the arrow. For Yumiko, accuracy was not a matter of alignment; it was her knowing and maintaining complete confidence that the arrow would hit where she desired it to. The arrow's stationary will was suspended, and in its place was her will for it to fly. Archery provided Yumiko with a well of giddy joy by bringing the shaft to life; bending it and filling it with her soul.

Down row, a mis-strung bowstring snapped and sent an arrow flying.

Yumiko felt something graze her eyebrow, snapping her out of revelry to the sound of Tanese-Ito sensei throwing an out and out tantrum.

The teacher's face was red, her wrath cowing every archer into putting their bows and arrows to the ground. Hiroo-kun looked as if he wanted to dig a hole and burry himself; his face red with shame, knuckles white from the grip he had on his bow, its string snapped.

Yumiko turned the other direction, finding a shaft sticking out of the ground, thankfully a good six feet from any spectators.

«Look at this! It's strung backward! Backward, a lesson I taught you last year! Where is your head? It's over, it's done for you! Apologize, boy.»

«Hiroo?»

Both teacher and demoralized student looked up surprised to see a cheery Yumiko. «Hiroo-kun, you lost this.» She drew the arrow from behind her back and placed it in his hands.

Hiroo's eyes widened at the sight of blood trickling by her eye like a tear and dropped the arrow he'd unconsciously accepted. Pulling out a handkerchief, he felt mortified by the recognition that he could have taken out her eye. «Yumiko, you're bleeding. Let me.»

She laughed at him. «I don't think you meant to trim my eyebrow.» She then pointed to her cut, blood trickling out of it. «I think I shall have a scar. Isn't that wonderful? A finer scar than all my brothers'. It shall make a fine story, how I got it at my first competition.»

His brows furrowed, confused by her ability to take this in stride. «I was careless when I strung my bow. It's my fault it snapped. I'm sorry.»

«If there were no accidents, there would be no brownies.» She laughed at him and the lovely confused look on his face. Tanese-Ito sensei watched with her lips pressed into a fine line, teetering between anger and letting the ordeal go.

«And it will be a better story once I've won the match.»

Tanese-Ito saw the girl's self assured smile which left no room for the possibility of cancellation, and couldn't help but cave in. There was something about the girl that prevented her from staying angry too long or going against the child's resolve.

* * *

Hana and Yumiko were returning to the school, crossing the narrow street and dodging traffic along with a crème colored stray ally cat.

«Brilliant! How did you do it Yumiko? How did you convince Tanese-Ito sensei to allow the competition to continue after you were shot, by that handsome Hiroo no less, and then proceed to win said competition? Your luck. . . I think you were born under a good sign. What was your sign?»

«The boar.»

«Oh. Well, I guess you can't tell with those ancient things. Ouch!»

Both girls looked up to see that several youth, over excited by the day's events, throwing their school supplies off the roof. Hana raised her fist to them in anger. «_Baka_! All of you! What will you do when you've put my eyes out?»

Faintly, from high up, they heard one of the boys reply, «Hana, I want to see you run again!»

With that, they directed several of their projectiles toward her. Hana ran.

Yumiko stood her ground and curiously raised her head to look death in the eye.


	6. The Banks of River Running

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 5

"The Banks of River Running"

* * *

o Dedicated to Denethor, son of Ecthelion, Ex-Steward of Gondor who with his last breath gave new meaning to the phrase "flaming mad."

* * *

Abigail rode the elevator toward consciousness slowly in a daze. Her first sensation was 'cold,' closely followed by 'wet' and 'uncomfortable'. A dull ache pounded in her skull, and as she came to realize the hard, icy lumps pressing into her face and chest were rocks, a jolt of panic surged through her.

Her eyes shot open to the sight of a pebbly bank and, beneath her, a wide but shallow river. Taking in her trembling, cold, wet, sack of a body, she found that the lower part of her was still in the lazy water. Pulling her soggy weight forward onto the bank, her vision wavered in darkness from the effort. A dull throb in her head brought on a wave of nausea. In defeat, she collapsed a few inches to the ground, frightened by how weak she was and desperately trying to catch her breath, exhausted from the brief exertion.

After a time, she began to feel better. Blood had rushed back into her fingers and toes along with her memory of falling from a tree. She opened her eyes again and looked up and down the river. This certainly wasn't the creek that ran through campus! There was no bridge and the water was too wide; this was a river. Something was amuck. Perhaps the fall had somewhat altered her memory.

She stood clumsily. Rivulets of water ran down her legs, into her shoes. The surreal woods rose up as a wall to surround her entirely. Abigail forgot to breathe. Spreading out as far as the dim light would allow was a half-dead forest. All around were grayish trees and their faded leaves towering as high as redwoods. Their branches were gnarled and bent in defeat, intertwined. They stifled the light and left the atmosphere a grayish haze. Few plants grew below with a sparse lattice of ivy. And it was near perfectly silent, save for the sigh of the wind through the wood and the rushing din of water.

"Oh God." Abigail choked on her soft words; the air seemed so stale. Fear stiffened her throat and she trembled, chilled and panicky. Clenching her hands into a fist, she realized she yet held something. A narrow branch. The very branch she had snagged from the holly tree in Wellington.

So it wasn't a dream; she had fallen. That had not been a delusion, but neither could this be. Clinging to the stick were it her lifeline, she crept up the edge of the forest as her Doc Martins squeaked and sloshed.

A great tree stood near the river. It drooped a bit, but was solidly there. Hesitantly, Abigail touched the trunk. Its bark felt as real as the chill in the air. Among the branches above her the tree creaked a moan without the aid of wind. The sound was so loud in comparison to the stifled silence that Abigail jumped back. Was that her imagination? Trees did not moan. There it was again; this time further into the wood.

Abigail decided she didn't want to know. She retreated back to the bank and happily caught a glimpse of a brown lump lying in a patch of dead leaves. Her backpack. At least she could manage a bit of luck out here. Bending over to pick up the pack, a glimmer of red from the woods behind some brush glinted. Her bike! Then misery set in. If nothing else she could get nowhere fast.

Abigail shivered again and quickly realized she needed to get out of her wet clothes, especially the drenched wool skirt, and get a fire going. At least she wouldn't get sick, could dry off, and the smoke would create a signal for rescuers. Setting her stick on her bag, she began to undress, shivering and letting out a string of curses at her fate until she was down to her white bra, knickers, and brown socks. She was too irritated to care if someone saw her at the moment and just as soon as she laid her clothes out on a log to dry, she began to look for means to start a fire.

Exactly why had she passed on all opportunities to learn how to make one from scratch?

Dumping her bag's content onto the forest floor, she began to sort through it in hopes of finding a pack of matches she might have ganked from a bar. No such luck. There was nothing but pencils, notebooks, textbooks, and one edition of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. Nothing to eat; nothing to get a fire going with.

A tree nearby moaned.

"Shut up!" She snapped, the sound of her own voice in the silence stung her ears. Tears of angry frustration welled in her eyes. Unbidden, they began to trickle down her hot, flushed face and in a childish display of temper she grabbed the closest thing, her stick, and flung it at the offending tree.

It was then a most curious thing happened. As the stick struck the tree, sparks of red and gold sputtered out one end of it.

Abigail blinked. And again. All remained still, save for a bit of distant tree moaning.

Cautiously, she crept near the tree and picked up her stick with care.

Did what she thought just happen, happen? Tentatively, she stood and stretched out her arm. The vague notion of how silly she must have looked, in naught but her underoos in the middle of a forest holding a stick crossed her mind, but she put it out.

With a swish, she raised her arm and brought it down with a flick.

WOOSH 

Out burst red and gold sparks into the gloomy, gray of the forest as a warm sensation eased up her arm. The trees nearby moaned a bit in chorus, their cries quickly echoed by those around them, but that didn't worry Abigail terribly much now. Carefully laying it amongst her things and keeping near the shore, she wandered through the wood picking up dead foliage. It was probably best not to touch any plants that might be living. The trees unnerved her, and she figured it was safer not to bother them if she could help it.

Bringing her load back to the shore, she found a better, slightly sandy spot to make camp. She unloaded, re-laid her clothes out, and found a tree to lean her bike against. This would be a good place to wait for help and spend the night. The currently gloomy forest was darkening and because the canopy was heavy, she doubted there would be much starlight to see by.

After arranging a neat pile of twigs and logs, she sat before the stack with her wand raised and mustering her resolve. This just had to work; she was too cold and her hair was damp. Growling, her stomach reminded her that it'd been hours since last she ate and had no food with her. There was only water to drink, if she dared to drink from the wild river at all.

Pushing this out of her mind, she boldly incanted the first thing that came to mind. "Lacarnum Inflamari."

Nothing.

She cleared her throat, resituated herself, and once again, this time a little louder, commanded, "Lacarnum Inflamari."

Nota.

Abigail examined her wand, grumpily switched the end she held, and shouted, _"Lacarnum Inflamari!"_

A small flame popped out of the end and landed in the middle of the heap, setting it aflame. Wide-eyed, Abigail stood and examined the slightly curving shaft. It was a little less than a foot long and to her eyes, beautiful. Raising her head, she looked into the inky forbidding expanse of the forest.

"What is this place?" She whispered aloud, desperate to hear a voice.

Surely, it could not be. She could not be in a book. It wasn't, couldn't.

With one breath and with fear as the hazy twilight gave way to night, she questioningly uttered, "The Forbidden Forest?"

* * *

Someone cried out in the darkness.

A whisper, a murmur, a slight chorus of sobs; raised voices in an endless night.

If only they would be silent! Niobe's head pounded with a migraine and her body ached. It was cold and numb. Slowly, her senses began to return to her along with the crescendoing incoherent voices. She felt as though she were bobbing in motion, as if, like. . .floating.

Consciousness began to creep back to her. This certainly wasn't right, whatever was happening. William wouldn't be far away, would he? He must be near, if only she could recognize one of the voices, the voices that would not stop. If one was his, she would know . . .

_William!_

He flashed before her mind's eye, reaching out to catch her as she. . .she fell back to her death.

Tearing at the curtains of unconscious which veiled her mind, begging for the cacophony of voices to be silent, she began to flounder finding she was submerged in a liquid. Niobe tried to take a breath only there was no air and began to choke as there was no air to replace what she'd already taken. The voices clamored in her head making her dizzier than she already was. Surely she could not drown again!

Her foot found a hold in the sandy bed and she pushed off and sprung out of the meter deep water coughing and gasping for breath. She clawed at her chest, dripping wet, shaking with cold and exhaustion.

* * *

The voices did not stop.

Niobe frantically looked down the gray river. Naught but water and a smoggy air. Her eyes gaped fearfully at the enormous sentinel trees lining the bank, all the strange voices seeming to speak to her, to one another, to whisper and speak:

_See, see what we see._

Niobe could not be sure she _didn't_ know the words for this peculiar language. In her mind, she held a certain, partial understanding of it, were it a language at all for speak and groan they did.

Stumbling, teetering with every step, Niobe waded through the water and made for the rocky shore.

_The voices will not stop!_ Trepidation struck as Niobe realized the sounds weren't coming from around her. They were coming from her own head. Surely, if she were going out of her mind she wouldn't recognize the change, would she?

Tears blurred her vision of dying trees and gray, dismal shores for the cacophony made her dizzy and induced a headache. On an outcropped stone she tripped and fell, but the water was so shallow now it did her no harm. Panicked, fearful, her head pounding, and her body in agony, Niobe tearfully dragged herself onto the gravel, lay her head down, and gave in to the blissful black.

Niobe was waking again and the voices were creeping back.

_They will come soon_, Niobe reminded herself of the voices. _I must not let them have me again. I just need to stay calm._

But what was there to make her calm? She was alone in a strange, terrible place, in pain, and utterly miserable. Back at St. Andrew's, she would go to William. In those few moments she'd felt her way wandering, the strength for her passions draining, William was there. He had faith in her, unwavering and unconditional. She could almost see him now as she opened a door to an unused classroom. He sat reading a book, his feet propped up upon a desk in front of him. When he read, he always immersed himself, loosing nearly all cognitive abilities to identify or acknowledge anyone else in the room. Blond hair shading his clear blue eyes, he was a curious and enticing thing for her. Sometimes, she almost felt shy under his gaze. Almost.

_She stepped close to him, still failing to gain his notice which, in turn, evoked a smile from her lips. With mock haughtiness she plopped onto a desk and shoved his feet off its top, startling the preoccupied young man out of his revelry._

"_You should not put your shoes on the desks. They're dirty."_

_His eyes shimmered with barely concealed delight, a wicked and conniving grin spreading across his face. He looked as if he were about to toss his book, grab her, and kiss her senseless then and there._

_She laughed at how easy he was to read. "No you don't, not here."_

_He pretended to be put out. "You have no sense of adventure."_

"_No, none."_

_Easing her into his arms and onto his lap, this time without the indecent intentions, Niobe could feel faint insecurity radiating off of him and all his possessiveness as he spoke to her. "Tell me you're not leaving."_

"_Will . . ." She chided him and half-heartedly attempted to escape his embrace._

"_Niobe, I heard." His voice softened. "I thought you where happy here, with me."_

_In reassurance, she smiled broadly, a warm current flowing through her body sending away the chill. "I am content when I'm with you."_

Niobe opened her eyes. Stretched out before her in row upon order-less row were the ancient sentries. Their voices were muted in her head for now she realized what it was she had heard. The trees. They wept to be so abandoned. Darkness inhabited them now. Evil, scurrying shadows. The light no longer visited their wood, walked in their branches.

But now they whispered. They wept with new hope for something had happened. Niobe realized the light they spoke of. . .was it her?

_I am loosing my mind!_ Niobe wailed to herself miserably. The voices began to thicken.

_No! I can't give in. Of all things, I'm dead. What is the worst that could happen? I die again? This . . .place is unEarthy; I cannot judge it by Earthy standards._ She allowed herself a faint smile._ Madness here might not be madness at all._

She breathed deep the stale, but cool air. It reached through her wet coat and raised her skin. She did not care. Indeed, she hardly noticed. For the voices, the voices prickled her every nerve. More and more did it seem to exemplify music (she touched the strap of her violin case, still slung across her back) rather than a discord of voices. Or rather, it was light. And the light tugged at her, in her mind, but not in an intrusive fashion, to go up the river. She welcomed it. In fact, if she wasn't so sure it'd be taking the final step off the deep end, she might have said it felt like William.


	7. Stiff and Stark

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 6

"Stiff and Stark"

* * *

Yumiko opened her eyes, but saw nothing.

_I'm blind. Maybe my mother will finally let me have a puppy!_

Her body shuddered.

_So cold. The ground is hard._

She took her first breath.

_Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!_

Lungs burning, she shut her eyes tight again.

With her first movement, she found her body aching. Never before in her short life had she felt this awful, nor had achieving some relief from the ache been such a contradiction. Lying still, she felt wretchedly stiff and her limbs convulsed to restart themselves, but movement induced spikes of pain nearly as bad as the stiff ache. Yumiko settled for rolling onto her side and drawing her legs closer to her chilled body.

The ground beneath her felt earthy, with stones poking into her at odd angles. This was not the place she stood when her eye had been impaled by a pen. No one would have left her body outdoors. They certainly wouldn't have moved her from a sunny, grassy field to dark, dirt, and rock.

Yumiko shuddered. _I am dead and buried_.

It was a strange thought for her. In her 14 years on Earth, she'd only contemplated death for fleeting moments. Ever was life a series of moments. Moments occupied her. Liquid joy flowed through her veins; the fact that there was no delight like that of a well plotted prank could keep her engaged for hours.

Yumiko was still a in a little pain, but there was no use in staying in the dirt. Carefully, she maneuvered onto her bare knees. They dug into the gravelly floor. Blindly, she groped about in the silt and stone for any sign of another person of place without success. She was conscious of her eyes being open, but there was only darkness everywhere. Cautiously, she moved in one general direction without feeling any major obstructions. If she was dead, she concluded that her grandmother ought to be around somewhere. There would be many relatives to greet her. Nothing about the place was making any sense.

She blinked twice. What was that? It looked like some faint outline. As she stared longer, her eyes began to adjust to the faint glow and confirmed that she wasn't totally blind. What she could discern looked like an elongated oval. It was almost the shape of a person. The bundle, not quite twice her size, seemed to emit its own faint light.

Curious, Yumiko crawled closer to inspect this thing. It was a gray tinged white. She thought perhaps it'd be a good idea to find out what was wrapped beneath. She pressed her face inches away from the thing, observing the virtually invisible threads making up the cocoon. Hesitantly, she touched it.

A bolt of fear seemed to jolt up her arm and instantly. Yumiko knew two things instantly, though they came from a vacuum; this shell was made up of some hardened, evil substance and there was a living being inside.

Naturally an empathetic person, Yumiko began ripping away the covering without any thought as to why this person was wrapped up in the first place. The hardened outer layer peeled away easily enough, but beneath was sticky layer made up of some kind of silk, like a spider's. The image of a spider large enough to do this fluttered over her conscious, but it was fleeting.

The indistinct, shadowy gray glow became more vibrant as the layers were removed. Shortly, Yumiko uncovered the outline of a hand. A torrent of emotions she'd kept at bay ebbed over her heart, gently tugging at her.

«It's alright.» She took the hand in her own, speaking in Japanese, «I am here, and I will help you as best I can."

There was so much she wanted to give to make this being come back to life; she'd make them better somehow, by sheer willpower if necessary.

A light with a pinkish hue spread from her hand. Though it was unusual, Yumiko (who'd accepted everything around her as strange now) merely cocked her head to the side. She watched as she willed part of her soul's strength into the other. Beneath her hand, she felt a finger twitch.

Furiously, Yumiko set about ripping away the strange wrapping in an excited fervor, the subtle movement enough to assure her that the being did live. Of what she could tell, the body was an adult male with long hair. It took a while, but the smaller Yumiko was able to pull away most of the wrappings. As best she could, she extracted the stiff body from the rest of the silk and laid him on the ground. She found him to be carrying a quiver with arrows; his bow was caught up in the tangle of threads. To make him more comfortable, she removed the quiver and strung it across her own back.

As far as she could tell, he didn't seem to be breathing, but after feeling about his neck, she eventually ascertained that he did have a faint pulse. He also was the only thing giving off any light, though it only illuminated that which was no more than an inch from his skin. As such, she could barely see him.

Yumiko sighed; she didn't know what to do now. Where could she take him? She didn't even know where they were. This unconscious body probably held answers and the only way he was going to help her was if she could help him.

Delicately, Yumiko placed a hand over his forehead and concentrated as if she were shooting an arrow. She had a target and it was by her own will that her bolt's aim would hit the mark.

Faintly at first, a pinkish tinge lit his skin as before, spreading out from her fingers. It shed light on his fair features and the two foot spider reaching its hairy legs for his prone body.

Yumiko let out a terrified scream as her already pink hand violently lit, revealing three other monstrous spiders waiting in the wings. Furiously, she struck at the creature with her bare hands, shoving the repulsive prickly mass off the poor man. As her hand struck, the spider let out a high pitch screech of agony. Its carcass began to smoke, curl in on itself, and was silenced.

For a second, all sound in the dark ceased.

"Sting!" one of the spiders hissed, followed by a cacophony of fangs clicking.

Yumiko raised her glowing hands to examine them, and then cast her eyes to her surroundings. She was in some kind of underground cave; a very large cavern. The ceiling was so high it extended beyond the view of her glowing hands. What concerned her most were the other cocoons, barely visible, stashed haphazardly in crevices and along the crags in the cavern floor.

Cocking her head, she uttered, «huh.» Eyes back on her hands and with stunning reflexes, poked a spider that'd meant to sneak up on her side with an index finger.

It rolled onto its back, dead.

Yumiko giggled. She stood slowly, the eight legged creatures in front of her holding their ground, hissing and mentioning a "Sting!" once or twice. She faked a lunge, and the creatures scuttled back down the cavern.

Watching their retreat, but wary not to abandon the helpless man, she saw them merge into. . .a mass of about thirty more spiders, all of varying sizes. From what she could tell, they were all very upset with her. Her face lit brightly. It was time for new tactics.


	8. Screams in the Dark

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 7

"Screams in the Dark"

* * *

Arielle awoke as a diver from a deep pool ever rushing franticly upward only to surface nauseous, dizzy, and utterly exhausted. Her head spun; her body, especially her chest, ached. From where she lay slowly prying her eyes open, it was near pitch black with just a vague, pinkish light about a cavernous space. Clenching her jaw against a moan, she attempted to adjust the crumpled position she lay in to something more comfortable. Beneath her, she felt grit and sand. The air she breathed was laden with stale humidity. It was foul smelling, thick, and made her work for every breath. Fighting off the urge to panic, Arielle concentrated on her breathing.

Deep expansion hurt, but it would keep portions of her lungs from dying. Fill the alveoli, put more oxygen in her bloodstream, expand her blood vessels, and stem the release of epinephrine. Calm and clear her head.

It was the faint sound of scuffling that drew her attention. Movement caught her eye. _What the hell was that?_

A scream in the dark.

Arielle bolted upright, her chest erupting in a dazzling protest of pain, only to find eight glittering eyes staring back at her. Mandibles expanded and glistening fangs salivated in anticipation of sinking into her aching body. Then another, and another; all creeping in on her, too surreal and eerie for her to believe what she beheld. Spiders the size of cats scuttled about dirt floors and cave-like walls. They were giant twitching, scuttling, hairy black shapes.

"This isn't real," she breathed.

She'd been shot. She was dead. This couldn't be real.

Another shrill cry far off in the black snapped Arielle from her stupor. The spiders' attention was diverted for a split second. Taking advantage of it, Arielle desperately groped about the dim space for something to use as a weapon. A stone would do; a fist of dirt. Something, anything at all.

Not two feet away she spotted the glint of metal. For one who'd only moments before suffered its wrath, the design was all too familiar to her fingers. Steadying her resolve, Arielle released the safety.

The shot reverberated, echoing throughout the tunnel. Sensing the blast, the spiders hesitated. From somewhere in the inky black nothing above her, a twitching arthritic carcass fell and landed beside her, dead. An ominous chorus of gnashing fangs followed, but again, there was the sound which drew Arielle's concern. Cries. Human cries in a foreign language and whose meaning was undeniable. A cry for help.

Ignoring the nauseous discomfort of some organ which was supposed to be stationary shifting in her chest, Arielle sprung to her feet. Three large spiders lunged at her. Fear struck at the sight of their massive appendages reaching for her. With the lethargy time is afflicted with moments before tragedy, Arielle had just long enough to shoot two and dodge one from behind. Trusting her thick boots, she kicked one that scurried on the ground aside, saving her bullets and trying to move as fast as possible to give the other human caught in this freak show nightmare aid.

_This isn't happening to me, this isn't happening to me._ Disbelief was her mantra.

Moving was slow going. The tunnel was festooned with delicately spun garlands of silk near the walls. These sticky threads glittering pinkish in the light restricted her movement. As for the pinkish hue, it grew brighter as she moved down the tunnel and closer to the speaker who kept on yammering.

"I'm coming!" She shouted, not expecting to be understood. Rather, she meant to let the other know she wasn't dead yet.

More spiders were coming up behind her. A few were hidden in the crevices of the tunnel. She shot another, only now appreciating her farmer of a grandfather's lessons in marksmanship, and kicked two more out of her way. Unless they were kicked hard into a pointy object, the things weren't deterred a whole hell of a lot. Arielle began to worry. The fuckers, though fast, didn't really seem to be in a hurry to catch their prey. Rather, their interest lay in keeping it moving in one direction. The direction that just so happened to be toward the voice.

_Two shots left!_ She thought in bitter frustration._ I can't bring a wooden knata to school or carry nail files or something reusable, but some shit-head gets in a semiautomatic which, shortly, won't do me any good_.

Skirting the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure pounce. It was bigger than most of the spiders. Once again, time seemed to slow as she raised her gun. Or was it really slowing down? Was it slowing . . . for her?

She squeezed the trigger, her aim dead on. She saw it all in the pinkish tinge. The bullet effect.

"I don't believe it."

Of course she didn't. How else could she be doing it?

She jumped. And for a test jump, it was one hell of a jump. It carried her out of the tunnel and into an incandescent pink cathedral of. . .more fucking spiders. Stalagmites pushed up out of the ground; floor to ceiling was crawling with every size and shape of arachnid. Spiders swarming, slinking, above, below, surrounding her, clicking and scuttling. At least she was in a clear space and would be safe for another, oh, sixteen seconds.

_Shit, oh shit, oh shit. God, you and me, I'm dead, I know, but back me up on this one and I swear I'll do whatever . . ._

Pain seized her chest. Arielle ground her teeth against it, her eyes watering and knees wavering. She knew she'd been abusing her body, and ignoring the pain wouldn't cure the ill initiating it. Maybe the adrenalin was wearing off now. Trying to stem the unswerving pulse of pain, Arielle clutched at her chest and touched something hard strapped against it.

She was packing heat.

In a blur of movement, she shot her last bullet at the closest threat and reloaded the next clip with surprising ease, even for her. If the situation were less deadly, she may have questioned it.

To her right, she heard more gibberish and Arielle leapt into the air with stop motion aeronautics, twisted to shoot up at the dangling monstrosities, (was it her or did these things seem to be getting bigger?) and landed with feral grace on a dirt floor glowing in a fuzzy pinkish haze.

Something coming from the pink, some energy she'd never felt before, flowed from the floor and up through her legs. Spreading instantly, it reached and relieved the ache in her chest, lifting it from her body. It piqued her curiosity. Because if that didn't, the sight before her surely would.

A twiggy Asian girl on all fours stared in wide-eyed fascination, her eyebrows lifted and jaw as slack as a Kabuki peasant. Both of her hands were pressed flat against the floor of the cavern. The pinkish light originated from them down into the floor and spread out into a circle radiating up from the ground. Scattered amid the circle and at the edge were gnarled, smoking carcasses of fried spiders. By her side lay a blond man with long hair, unmoving. Just as she began wondering if it wasn't such a good idea to be standing in the pink stuff, she noted the faint rise and fall of his chest.

_So, these spider things can't get near the light; it'll kill them. The three of us aren't harmed by it. It kinda feels fuzzy._

The Asian apparently decided Arielle was friendly and now smiled enthusiastically. She loudly whispered something unintelligible to Arielle just as she noticed that the light from the girl's hands was wavering. A spider chanced to step closer. It promptly fried, its body fizzling with smoke, clicking and hissing madly.

"Aiieeeeee!"

Arielle didn't need that translated. The Asian's circle couldn't hold forever, and they had to exit the cave, preferably soon. From the safety of the circle, Arielle might have been free to pick off spiders, but not indefinitely. To her frustration, their numbers didn't seem to be lessening; the carcasses were piling up, but the waves of them didn't stop coming. Very soon, the cave would be over-run. Reloading, Arielle began to clear a path in the direction she'd entered, hoping that since it'd been the direction the spiders didn't want them to go, it was the way out. With any luck, the creatures were just that uncomplicated.

Seeing the kid's bag lying aside, she ordered, "Get your shit, we're leaving!"

"Okay!" The Asian replied cheerfully. Raising one hand, she slung on the bag and an archer's bow. The rim of the circle slowly dissipated, then stabilized a little further in. For a time, it remained that way with Arielle shooting out into the ever-gaining dimness of the cave.

Then, the strangest feeling shot through Arielle's spine, very nearly forcing her body to step to the right. She complied with its demands. Shortly thereafter, she felt the shockwaves of a projectile shoving aside the air as it soared by her, embedding in the solid rock. A rogue arrow. Things other than spiders were lurking in the dark crevices of the cavern.

Then the circle began to close in again, diverting Arielle's concern back to exiting the cavern. All of them. Being that she was unable to see what the hell the Asian behind her was doing, she looked over her shoulder. The girl was rummaging through her rucksack. As her attention was not on maintaining the circle, it began to shrink again. This time, Arielle started to hear course shouting from where the arrow had originated. Two more projectiles shot by her, but neither came as close to hitting her as the first. All she could make out were hunched bipedal shadows behind a wall of stalagmites, well out of the pink light, hacking and snarling to each other. Arielle didn't like this at all.

"If you've got any ideas, now's good!"

The pink was fading; worry crept into Arielle's consciousness. The clearance between them and the spiders was no more than five feet. The spiders were getting antsy.

CLICK-- FWOOSH

It was a lighter. Arielle heard fizzling which was promptly followed by two round, sparkling, and bright pink unidentifiable flying objects whizzing by. Then a hand shoved her forward and down, right onto the unmoving man.

BOOM

Light, sparks, and smoke burst from an unseen source, tossing spiders and corpses into the air along with flickering pink embers. As these embers landed on the creatures, they seemed to instantly kill the small and mortally injure the enormous. Terrified of the light and flames, the creatures fled in its wake, prey forgotten. Arielle smirked, reveling in their small victory. She then realized they had to do something about Mr. Paralyzed lying beneath her. Whose eyes were now open.

Without asking, Arielle took one wrist and drew his arm around her shoulders, standing quickly. He was incredibly light, considering he couldn't support his own weight in his near-paralyzed state and was taller than her. Thankful the way was clear, Arielle practically dragged the man with her, his feet dragging and catching on stone beneath them.

The Asian with her glowing hands had taken point, and was standing at near an exit. Cleverly, the chica was messing with her lighter and another ball Arielle assumed was a firecracker. Catching up to her, Arielle paused at her side. The other girl was gazing into the darkness behind them. There was a mournful look to her face as she surveyed the cavern. Arielle matched her line of sight, but saw nothing.

Their eyes met; the sad regret in them made Arielle hesitate. She looked back over the cave to see if she'd missed anything or anyone. All she saw were dead spiders.

BOOM!

A second explosion, this time sent down the tunnel out, illuminated their way. Embers singed their clothes and hair. The girl had her lighter out. It was enough to see two feet in front of them. Her other held an unlit charge which glowed a radiant pink.

The spiders now seemed to be wary of this quarry and steered as clear as possible, to which Arielle was thankful for as she was occupied holding a man upright. He was just now starting to put his feet under him.

"This way!" Arielle grabbed the girl's collar before she could start down the wrong way. With some adjustment in how she held Mr. Paralyzed, she dragged the girl into the gallery she'd awoken in.

They ran down another alcove with the Asian moving to the front as there wasn't enough room for three abreast. Arielle held the blond by the waist with her right hand, and he was now able to cling to her shoulder with one arm. It vaguely registered to her that his recuperation was rather swift, but what concerned her more was the mass of spiders in their wake keeping to an expedient distance. Arielle didn't like this at all, and slowed a little to take a shot at one.

The man screamed, "_Daro_, _saes!_" as if in pain with his hands over his ears. She startled at his outburst. Arielle slipped the gun back into a large pocket in her coat. Concerned, she offered her other arm for support as they hobbled along. In that moment, their eyes met.

Those eyes; an odd blue in the pinkish light, but intensely disturbing in the agony they conveyed. She'd thought he was not much older than her, but now she was not so sure. They didn't get time for a proper introduction, nor could he get a medical inspection. Arielle could only muse over whether or not they'd been pushing him too hard. Their current situation didn't allow for much delay, but she still didn't want him to pass out. She glanced at him sidelong, noticing he was rather handsome and nearly tripped when she finally realized that the pointy ears were no trick of the pink light.

Suddenly, a sensation passed through Arielle's mind, and before she bothered with its origins, she turned forward. With her free hand, she snatched the kid back seconds before she ran headlong into a web. A whole tunnel was blocked off wall to wall with silken threads. An unintelligible string of muttered curses was let off by the Asian.

"A trap." Arielle could have smacked herself, but glowered instead. Yes, this was the way to the entrance, but it was booby trapped and unsprung. They'd both gotten in without coming through the door.

The bugs waited, clicking eagerly. They moved forward to press their prey into their trap, but were reluctant to attack. After the stellar pyrotechnics show, the things were wary.

Deciding they were making a stand, Arielle let Pointy Ears drop behind her and took out the gun.

The kid shouted, startling Arielle, snatched her gun out of her hand and shot into the web. The bullet and its shock wave punctured the webbing, while the theft of her weapon evoked an indignant "hey!" from Arielle. The Asian took no notice and shoved Arielle behind a bolder, barely managing to drag the indignant invalid across the floor, lit the charge and handed it to Arielle, making a throwing motion. The plan she had slowly found its way into Arielle's brain. So, the kid was clever, and in theory, it wasn't too bad an idea; Arielle clearly had a better throwing arm than she did.

Once again Arielle repressed the urge to question their situation, doubled checked to make sure the Asian didn't have pointy ears as well, and hurled the charge with all the energy she could muster. She knew full well that the bullet hole would only do so much to clear a path and no way to know how straight the tunnel was. There was silence. Arielle quickly retook her gun, and Pointy Ears harassed the Asian. Ignoring them, Arielle kept the creepy crawlies from over-running their temporary cover. Pointy Ears shouted what she supposed were curses directed at her.

BOOM!

The resulting explosion and shockwave rocked the tunnel; bits of rock and silt crumbled down from the ceiling. A sharp fragment cut Arielle's forearm painfully. Light flashed and the spiders quickly retreated from it, remembering full well what'd happened the last time.

Arielle vaulted and the girl scampered over their protective bolder; Pointy Ears fell with style after them. With a resentful glare from him, Arielle pulled him up by the arm and helped him join their mad dash through the tube. Their progress was hampered by the sticky silk that remained attached to the floor. Bones and earth crunched beneath their feet. In the back of Arielle's mind, she realized that if they all fell, they would not be getting up.

After un-sticking and wrenching her feet again and again, and her patience for Pointy Ear's miserably slow progress waned, Arielle saw light. It was dim and hazy but faintly white and the most beautiful sight she had yet seen in her short life. This relief was immediately dashed by the realization that not all the webbing had been cleared by the blast. The two girls exchanged a glance, and without words, each executed the unspoken plan.

Arielle turned and once again began blasting the hell out of the spiders slinking around a bend. The Asian slung off her pack and wildly began thrashing it about to clear the wads of silk. Pointy Ears covered his ears with his hands, moving as far from Arielle and the noise as possible.

The spiders and the Asian advanced slowly. Arielle stood her ground. Gradually, the gnashing, filthy, hairy crawlies piled up. Every wave of creepies used their companions' carcasses as a rather useless shield. Arielle swallowed and took a step back when they made seven feet. The things began to move in, swarm.

_Don't they take hints? Don't these things just . . . run out?_

The Asian was shouting gibberish again; an arrow, followed by two glowing pink stones flew past Arielle's head and into the mass of creepies. The arrow skewered one, the stones fried several. Turning, Arielle saw a grimacing Pointy Ears holding the bow and the Asian arming and preparing to throw more stones. Her way was clear and she had cover.

Arielle turned and jumped much as she had before, a few red-gold curls catching on web overhead, and hit the ground running. Catching their shoulders, she dragged Pointy Ears and the girl after her.

In this section of the cave, there were no webs to stay their feet. However, the spiders were no longer patient nor continued their reluctance with their intended prey. Arielle shot to the trio's left and right, not daring to look back.

Finally, they ducked a low ceiling, rounded a bend, and burst into a miserable excuse for a forest.

The Asian let out a few curses in English that would have made a sailor blush.

"Crap!" Arielle joined in succinctly, but felt the other had their situation's description nailed.

Nothing about the forest inspired relief or encouraged hope. There was some kind of grayish haze to the atmosphere much like that of the cave. It was only somewhat easier to breathe and dimmed the sunlight. Large trees surround them with sparse undergrowth below to protect them from furtive eyes. Dead and decaying leaves littered the ground making it a bit warmer out here than in the caves.

No one stopped running. Arielle and Pointy Ears took point, followed by the slightly winded girl. The running didn't exactly take a toll on Arielle as it should. As for the younger girl, she wasn't so lucky and it showed. Now that the spiders weren't in sight, Arielle felt bad about pressing the twiggy thing any more than necessary. She looked scrawnier in the haze than in her pink glow.

Pointy Ears, on the other hand, didn't give any sign of slowing down from his current gait. He ran with a lilt, as if his muscles weren't quite obeying him yet. He permitted Arielle to hold his arm, but she got the distinct impression he didn't appreciate her assistance. His face was essentially expressionless; his only detectable emotion was a grave wariness toward her and the arrogant jutting of his chin.

After nearly seven minutes of flat out running, the Asian couldn't take the pace a moment longer and panted her plea to the Westerner. Arielle couldn't comprehend what she spoke, but the look in her eyes and gasping was understandable enough. She slowed to a jog, annoying Pointy Ears who wasn't inclined to remain with his rescuers.

Having just about enough of him, Arielle slowed further.

"_Arigato, gosimas_," the girl panted.

"_Hai_." Arielle replied wondering if she was pronouncing it right. Her knowledge of Japanese was nothing more than "yes," "sorry," "thank you," "hello," and "my name is Arielle." She decided to make the best of the knowledge she'd gleaned from a lesson on Japanese in Asian Awareness.

"_Watashi wa_ Arielle _desu_." Arielle held out her hand, and the kid took hold and shook rigorously, masking her exhaustion quite well. Considering they were completely lost and just attacked by mutant spiders, Arielle was a little weirded out by this show of enthusiasm.

"_Konichiwa! Watashi wa Miazawa Yumiko desu, arigato_. . ." and that was the extent of that rant Arielle could make out as Yumiko bowed formally to her (which Arielle lamely bowed back as best as she could imitate) and made conversation in Japanese as they briskly walked.

Arielle waved her hands and interrupted. "_Gomen na si_, no, Japanese. English! American."

"_Hai, domo_. You speak English."

"_Hai_, English." Arielle confirmed, relieved that one of them was competent in the other's language.

"I fail English." Yumiko giggled.

Arielle growled, closed her eyes, and curled her lip in irritation. Then she tried, "_Vous parlez français_?"

Yumiko cocked her head to the side as if Arielle's words were coming from a dumb animal.

"Fuck high school French, useless language anyway," Arielle muttered. She wasn't getting anywhere. She wasn't going to unless she could communicate with someone.

Remembering this was a three person party, she glanced around for Pointy Ears. He'd run off ahead of them. Apparently, he knew where he was going. Or he was desperate to escape their company.

That wouldn't do. Arielle held up her index finger to Yumiko, hoping she conveyed to the girl that she'd be back this way in a minute and hadn't just flipped her off.

With a running start, Arielle took a leap and soared through the rather thick branches, catching one beneath her foot once or twice to direct the steerage of her course. This mode of travel was a bit odd. It was as if part of her denied this was possible while another interacted with gravity, almost willing it to release her as she saw fit simply because it did not apply, not for her. Sensing Pointy Ears below, she let herself drop directly into his path.

He halted, drew an arrow, and placed it before Arielle could rise from her landing crouch.

"Whoa," Arielle raised both her hands, and gave him her sternest look of disapproval because he didn't lower his weapon at the sight of her. "Take it easy."

He remained firmly planted, apparently waiting for her to look at him wrong. Willing herself to remember that it probably wasn't normal for people to fly through the air where he came from either, she successfully repressed the urge to rip the rather deadly sticks from his hands and bash him over the head. It was obvious Pointy Ears was not, well, _human _at any rate, but that didn't mean he couldn't communicate. There was even the slight chance he spoke English, Japanese, or French. From what little she'd heard earlier, she decided to start with French, slowly standing up. "_Vous parlez français? Oui, Non_?"

Notta.

"_Konichiwa_,"

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. They were intense; she didn't like the way his scrutiny made her feel as though he could see beyond her mere physical being. Self-conscious and uncomfortable, Arielle didn't feel like being on his bad side. She wanted some answers. They may as well start with the basics.

She set her hand over her heart.

"Arielle." She let this sink in for a moment, then again. "Arielle," accompanied with a nod towards him.

Haughtily, he raised his chin, lowering his aim away from her. It was as if the simple act of introduction were beneath his dignity. All his attention was locked on her, so it didn't surprise Arielle when a finger appeared over his shoulder and tapped it once.

In bullet time, she admired his fluid, nimble and deadly movements raising and readying his ancient but efficient weapon toward Yumiko. But in bullet time Arielle was _always_ faster. The mouth of her gun lightly rested against his temple before the head of his arrow aligned with any part within a hair's breath of Yumiko. Pointy Ears froze, a faint red hue to his cheeks was the only indicator of what must have be blinding white rage.

"Drop it." Arielle ordered. She was pissed. Good people didn't aim weapons at kids.

His only response was to shift his eye line from his own weapon to hers.

"She saved your life. Drop it."

Stiffly, he lowered his aim, gazing out into the forest ahead, chin lifted with arrogantly. Yumiko jumped into his face breaking the tension. Patting her chest, she proclaimed, "Yumiko."

She smiled and then patted him on the shoulder, as if to reassure him no harm was done and shock lit up on his face unmasked. Arielle doubted he understood why she should be so friendly towards him. Then, as if scolding a wayward pet, Yumiko shook her finger and ranted unintelligibly at Arielle who still held her gun to Pointy Ear's head.

It was Arielle's turn to be confused. Feeling compelled to defend herself, she shouted, "He's a prick! We saved his life and that's how he thanks you!"

Yumiko stomped right up to Arielle and poked her in the shoulder. "No, Trinity, no! Bad. Let _bishounen_ go."

Arielle blinked. Then snorted in laughter, unable to contain herself. "_Bishounen_?" Arielle had forgotten she knew that word too. She spent way too much time in Asian Awareness Club.

Yumiko's eyes glazed over dreamily, and leaned against Pointy Ear's shoulder, which he prompted pulled away from. In a lovingly possessive voice Yumiko proclaimed, "_Bishounen_. Mine!"

Arielle snorted a laugh and lowered her weapon to avoid an accident as Yumiko comically batted her eyes. Immediately, Bishounen's eyes went wide. His jaw jutted out, probably aware of being the butt of some joke, and never having been in danger of the girls. Of course, his abject distaste spurred Arielle's mirth further. He looked from Arielle, who grinned approvingly and pocketed her gun, to Yumiko, who had placed a hand on her new friend's shoulder.

"You can have him." Arielle watched the wary _bishounen_ put away the loose arrow and strap the bow across his back. Gently, Yumiko tugged on Arielle's arm, babbling all the while, indicating they should follow the pretty man. The two really didn't have many options. "I'm coming, but I don't think he likes me much. Or you, for that matter."


	9. The Red Bird

DISCLAIMER: Anything herein that resembles the property of Mr. George Lucas, Mrs. JK Rowling, Mr. Peter Jackson, Mr. Larry and Andy Wachowski, Professor JRR Tolkien, or Mrs. Rumiko Takahashi, is entirely intentional with absolutely no intent of libel or cause of any injury to said respective artists. No money has been or ever will be made off of this or any of this author's convoluted interpretation of 'fanfiction' so there's no use of lawyers agonizing over it. Standard fanfiction waiver applies.

VERY SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: Trelan is an OC from Cassia and Siobhan's Mellon Chronicles. They gave me permission to add him in; he's there because I love fanfic, and this story, being a metafanfic, wouldn't be complete without appearances from famous OCs. If you have not read Mellon Chronicles, do so now. NOW.

Oh, and I don't claim to be an expert in Sindarin.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 8

"The Red Bird"

* * *

The patient hunter remained perfectly still. Clear blue eyes pierced the gloomy forest's dark density with the ease of his race. No quarry could escape him. His bow was out and ready to be knocked within a fraction of a mortal heartbeat. He was the best hunter; a premier archer, none better.

Gracefully peaked ears caught a faint sound; feathers gliding through air. It was distant and approaching his position. Silently, he reached back to his quiver and drew an arrow. His movement was nothing more than a yellow blur of fletching. He waited patiently for the quarry to come into his sights.

The vibrant red bird emerged from the murky haze soaring like a flame, and alighted upon a gnarled bough. His predatory eyes caught every detail of the bird; the gleaming golden plume, the shimmering emerald eyes, and the chick soft down. This creature contained its own radiance, for the gloom of Mirkwood could not account for its warm luminescence. Craning its neck, its beak opened, and a single, silvery note split the oppressive stale air like a sword through orc. The song was of hope. For a moment, Legolas felt his heart waver, and so with it his aim.

Oh, but this only served to wound his pride. He never missed his target and could not allow the bird's appearance to distract him from his goal: he was here to slay the red bird, and so he would.

All was set. The bird's breast was centered. He released the arrow.

It struck true, for it was from his hand. The red bird's body jolted, then trilled a mournful note. At the sound, his breath caught in his throat. An untraceable, doubtful fear gripped him. Something had gone wrong.

The bird fell from its high perch backward, its wings still. Mid-air, a flame leapt from the mortal wound and consumed her. The ashes scattered upon the ground.

In the distance there was a horrible explosion, a defining sound he'd never heard in his life. It reverberated though the forest, enough to turn the wind's breath against its intended course.

* * *

Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood sat bolt upright on his couch, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. His heart was racing, and his ears rang painfully as though he had heard a very, very loud noise.

Blinking, he reassured himself he was indeed back home in his father's palace, in his own apartment, on his own couch. Had he dozed off? Rarely did elves lose consciousness of their surroundings even as their minds rested. Had he been that tired? It was entirely possible; he'd barely rested the three months he'd been on patrol. Yet he'd never heard of an elf dreaming as he had, though a rare few had the gift of foresight. In two millennia, such a thing he'd never experienced. The likelihood of him suddenly having a premonition now, especially as he sat resting alone in the safety of his home struck him as ridiculous.

There was a light tap on his door, followed by an inquiring voice. "Highness?"

Legolas stood and made sure his underclothes didn't look slept in. "Enter."

Trelan, a familiar face and companion, entered. His discomposure betrayed his unease. "Your father bids you come for council. Something has happened in the wood Southeast of here."

Though Legolas had certainly grown accustomed to interruptions, it didn't make this one any easier to deal with. Not five hours ago he had returned from his patrol of the boarder. The patrol had resulted in not only a score of incidents with unusually clever spiders, but also a group of wandering and clearly confused, dull-witted _adan_. Orc were spotted repeatedly several miles off. Though they never entered in the forest, it was extremely close by elven standards. If he were being summoned for council something of equal or worse merit, to his exasperation, had probably occurred.

"What do you know?" He slipped his sir coat on, attempting to make himself presentable.

"I heard word that an elf from a hunting party staggered half dead to a fleet outpost. He was just brought in to the healers unconscious. No one I've spoken to knows why," Trelan explained.

First the horrible boarder patrol, then the vision, now this? It was all boding ill for him, and Legolas wondered if he ought to turn around and go straight back to bed. He clapped his friend on the shoulder as he made for the door. "Let me know if anything else changes."

"Then I should let you know Captain Nolaquen only just arrived."

Legolas paused. Captain Nolaquen had trained him in the art of warfare when he was a young elfling. The prince had not seen his teacher in several years, as the captain was often in the southern woods. "Nolaquen?"

Trelan nodded in affirmation. "I think he may have been passing by, and was sent for."

"Thank you." Again, the news boded ill. "Trelan, you wouldn't happen to have a ready excuse for lurking about the healing ward, would you?"

Trelan cleared his throat and spoke louder than entirely necessary. "Lady Ninde, the asinine thing, shrieked so shrilly at the sight of a mouse my eardrums have burst. I can barely hear you as it is, your Highness."

Legolas smirked and mused aloud. "Places you in the ward, difficult to diagnose, encourages words to be exchanged freely among other parties; plausible if one has ever met the lady. Discovery potentially problematic should someone examine you."

Trelan held up one finger, put it in his ear, and pulled out a ball of what appeared to be blackened wax. "That seems to have solved the problem, my lord."

Impressed, Legolas took the sticky black wad from his friend, squishing it between his forefinger and thumb. "What's it made of?"

"500 year buildup."

Legolas quirked a brow.

"Sap, candle wax, ash."

"Excellent subterfuge." Legolas returned the wad.

"I thank you, my lord."

They exited the prince's apartment together and parted ways at the end of the hall silently, as not to raise suspicion of what Trelan intended. Legolas moved quickly. He would never run despite the fact he sensed he was tardy; it had been well over two thousand years since he last made any mad dash down the corridors and could still remember the distinct sound of porcelain shattering on polished marble.

Though he'd made good time, Legolas still felt as though he were interrupting. Upon being ushered into his father's study, he found himself in the company of an outpost warden he recognized by the name of Ondollo, and Captain Nolaquen. Ondollo stood in respect, though there was a faint flicker of irritation across his face for being interrupted. Nolaquen was scrupulous as ever, though politely inclined his head in respect. It seemed they'd begun without him.

King Thranduil, Legolas' father gestured for all to sit and confirmed the prince's suspicions. "My apologies, Legolas. I know you are in need of rest, but I fear Warden Ondollo has brought some rather grim news to us. He has been giving Captain Nolaquen and me his brief." Thranduil, maneuvered behind the large, ornately carved desk looking as tired at Legolas felt.

The small council did have leeway on him. It also appeared the number present were the only ones privy to this information, a conclusion which unsettled the prince.

"Please, Warden Ondollo, tell us of what you know." Legolas sat, focused directly on the warden.

The story was much the same as Trelan had said; a well-stocked hunting party of five had set out two days Southeast of the palace. It should have been a safe distance. Their numbers and the skill of several individuals therein should have been enough to dissuade and repel any spider attack. The half-dead _edhel_ who'd barely made it to the outpost's _talan_ had claimed the spiders numbered upwards of one hundred.

Legolas did not bother to hide the surprise and confusion he felt. Spiders hunted in groups, that much was true, but largest of these capped at twenty-five, and rarely that many. What was more unheard of were spiders attacking more than one, lone elf. Directly attacking a camp of five . . . Legolas didn't like where this was headed.

"Be it true, the spiders are being organized by some other. Organizing themselves is against their nature," Nolaquen reasoned. Legolas felt his gut twist, knowing the captain was entirely right and fearing its implications; orcs, goblins, men. "What of these men at the boarder, your Highness?"

Legolas shook his head. "Their numbers were ten, with two women and an elderly man among them. They did not bother to conceal their presence, and hardly made it beyond the boarder. For these reasons, it is doubtful they harbored ill intent. They were, as they said, lost."

King Thranduil nodded at this assessment, but remained frowning. "I do not like this, coincidence as it may be. For the time being, any _adan_ found within our boarders are to be arrested, regardless how far in they are or apparent conduct."

Legolas nodded in agreement with the others.

"What news of the other four hunters?" Legolas asked Warden Ondollo. The other faces in the room turned grim. Legolas decided he didn't want to know anymore.

"We assume captured."

With capture, there was a near certainty that a few of those _edhil_ were dead by now. The news felt acutely painful. To the elves, death was meant to be a foreign thing. That it was rare in Mirkwood did nothing to cushion the ire rising in the exhausted prince.

"The survivor had to be brought here. His wounds could not be cared for in the wilds," Warden Ondollo continued. "The guard at our _talan_ only numbered ten. I feared the area was not safe, and two would have to be spared in accompanying him here. Therefore, I split the post which remained and sent them to warn and support the other _talan_ posts and patrols, as well as send back any other parties hunting in the area. It is my wish to return with more sentries and a proper search party."

Thranduil nodded in agreement. "Captain Ondollo, you will re-establish your post with extra sentries. Captain Nolaquen, if you would, lead the search party for the missing. I'd suggest taking your best trackers and at least ten of your best warriors. Legolas, for the time being, I must ask you to remain here."

Protest rose in the prince's heart, as his father knew it would.

"Should these foul coincidences continue, you shall be needed."

* * *

Glossary:

_Talan_: Platform up in the trees which can act as homes or military outposts for elves.

_Adan_: One of race of mortal men.

_Edhel_: One of the race of immortal elves. Singular.

_Edhil_: One of the race of immortal elves. Plural.


	10. Many Meetings

DISCLAIMER: You know the drill by now. I claim nothing but the characters which aren't already claimed

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 9

"Many Meetings"

* * *

Niobe wasn't exactly sure where the tree-light voices were leading her. The sensation was a hypnotizing, rhythmic, flowing stream; she allowed the current to lead her on. Night fell over the wood. Perhaps it was never light very long in these woods. 

More and more she sensed ripples of darkness; electric-static blotches between the trees. It was hard to describe them aside from the bad feeling emanating from their vicinity. The anomalies were far off and didn't concern her. At least, not for the moment.

Light shone ahead. Real light. Not some illusion in her head, but the gentle flicker of firelight. It lay directly in her path and she wondered why she hadn't noticed it earlier. Part of her wondered if the invisible darkness she saw with her mind was actually absorbing the light residing in the physical.

Closing her eyes, she drifted through her own being, trying to find the means to reciprocate conversation with the tree-light voices. Touching the flow, she breathed a 'thank you' which was released in a ripple.

Immediately, a tremor went through the light; the trees felt it, and this seemed to please them immensely. With each step she took toward the camp by the bank, it became easier and easier to tune out the voices of the trees. Instead, she honed in on another signal. One that seemed friendly and human.

Still, she was taken off guard by what she found.

Abigail, who'd spent the past hour or so experimenting with her wand (attempting to turn pebbles into peanuts, to no avail), heard Niobe coming. Inwardly, she was thankful she'd at least slipped on her tank top and wasn't completely in her underwear. Startled and wary, she stood alert with her wand trained on the intruder.

"It's alright." Niobe held up her hands, noticing the wet clothes hanging to dry and the fact the other girl's stick was being wielded like a weapon. "I saw your firelight and mean no intrusion. As I seem to have taken a stumble into the river myself, I'd appreciate the chance to use your fire."

"Who are you?" Abigail demanded, hoping she sounded a good deal more menacing than she felt.

"I am Niobe Night Watson." Niobe sensed no ill intension from the other woman, and no reason not to speak the truth.

"Abigail Williams. Where am I?"

Niobe's brow creased. It wasn't out of the question that this other girl suffered the same odd journey through the water. Both were wet and on edge. "I am not sure, my friend. Last I knew, before I woke here, I'd fallen from a ferry into a loch. A good friend and I were on our way to St. Andrews, in Scotland." Softly, with her eyes downcast she added, "I thought I'd died."

Abigail lowered her wand, not quite sure if it was all that astonishing another woman had experienced the same odd transformation as she.

"Now I find myself. . .sensing the trees, the flickering shadows just beyond my vision. I sensed you were trustworthy by your light."

"My light?"

Niobe came closer to the fire. The once tense situation between them was easing into curious cordiality. "There is light, or its absence around everything. It is strange, and to be honest, a bit frightening. I could never feel anything remotely like this back on Earth."

"What do you mean?" Abigail hurried over, dropping her suspicion of the stranger just as suddenly as it'd come, thinking of her own remarkable transformation. "You don't think we're on Earth anymore?"

"It doesn't feel the same. . .do you not sense it?" She smiled at her own cryptic words; words she wasn't even sure if she understood. Rather, they felt right. "Though I know I'm not making any sense of my oddly acquired talents."

Abigail's face lit up. "Oh, no! I understand perfectly. One moment I lost my balance climbing a tree. Next thing I know, I'm lying just over there on the shore. Soaked to the bone, which, well, explains my current state of undress though you probably guessed that." It was then it occurred to her she was being rather thoughtless. "But come here, over by the fire. You can lay your coat to dry over on that log; it doesn't touch the ground. Hopefully everything will be dry by morning. You must be freezing."

Niobe stifled a giggle, thinking the half-naked, ranting, doting girl quite endearing. She removed Gabatu over her head.

"Is that a violin or viola?" Abigail asked curiously.

"Violin. Her name is Gabatu."

"You've named her? She must be quite special to you. Oh, don't mind that, go ahead, put your coat over there and we'll see if the water did any damage to Gabatu. Wood instruments tend to warp; a good friend of mine plays the cello. Girl's obsessed with the thing, cried her eyes out when she accidentally tripped on the hem of her concert dress and nicked it. You looked dressed for a performance as well."

"I am. Or I was." Niobe shrugged off her coat, warming up to the stranger even more. Knowledge of strings was always a plus in her book. Besides, Niobe could feel a rush of exuberance radiating from Abigail's light as she discovered Niobe was a musician.

The blonde sat before the fire and opened the case. "Excellent. Still dry."

"You don't plan to use it for fire wood, do you?"

Abigail look up, scandalized and drawing the instrument away from the fire. "Of course not! I wouldn't even. . ." Then paused. "You were kidding."

"Yes." Niobe chuckled lightly, but at the sight of Abigail's irritated face, she added, "You don't have anything to eat do you?"

"Sorry, I'm afraid not." Abigail shut the case as Niobe joined her by the fire and untied her shoes. "I landed here with my bag, bike, and the clothes on my back. And this stick too."

Because of the way Abigail spoke of the stick, Niobe felt inclined to investigate further. Sending a tentative wave of light over it, she was startled to sense a surge of power emanating from the stick.

"What is it?" Abigail crouched down, eyes darting around the dark woods to their right as she mistook Niobe's surprise for some creature (like those horrible thestrals) about to pounce on her.

"Your stick; what is it?" Niobe demanded.

"This?" Abigail didn't notice Niobe's serious tone. "Well, I suspect it's a wand. I broke it off the tree I fell from back on Earth, and I still clung to it here." She blushed slightly. "I threw a bit of a tantrum and the most remarkable think happened; sparks came out one end."

Niobe's eyes narrowed.

"Don't give me that look. I know it sounds preposterous, but honestly, it's how I started this fire. See here, I worked out how to levitate pebbles." She raised her wand. "_Wingardium Leviosa_."

A tiny pebble lifted into the air. Niobe felt the magic's power in the air causing tremors in the light. There was no denying what she saw with her own eyes and ceased doubting Abigail further. After all, she was the one hearing trees talk.

"Before you came by I was trying to transfigure the pebbles into peanuts, as I'm rather hungry, but I haven't quite got the hang of it."

"Could you do this before, on Earth?"

"Of course I bloody well couldn't! I was normal; at university in Wellington."

"Wellington?"

"Right, New Zeland. You know, I have a theory about all this."

"About how we got here?"

"Yes."

Niobe settled in closer to the fire as did Abigail.

"You see, when I was a girl, I was absolutely mad about Harry Potter."

Niobe chuckled.

"You laugh! But don't you see? This is a holly wand, and it's the same spells from the books make magic happen. The forest, well, it's creepy and magical, which is enough cause for me to think _we're in a book_."

Niobe felt a tremor flutter through her consciousness at Abigail's words, and yet it didn't quite ring true. She remained incredulous. "Harry Potter?"

"It fits."

"It does not explain how I came to be here. How my own powers do not equate with yours."

"They don't?"

Niobe explained serenely. "The woods are magic, but it is a natural kind of energy. It's as though I sense things through. . .the best way I can describe it is light. Energy." Her grin deepened. "Like a jedi, you know?"

Both girls giggled heartily at the implausibility of it all. Abigail sighed, resigning her thoughts. "It'd be rather exciting to be a witch, but I guess that's a bit fanciful. To think one can end up in a book!"

Niobe felt the same slight, uncomfortable tremor result from the other's words; it was ominous and dark. Abigail herself appeared oblivious to what Niobe sensed.

"We should discount nothing. After all, we seem to be dead and living all at once. Perhaps this is what lies ahead after we move on." Her death reminded Niobe of William, and his intangible memory pained her.

"You think we're dead?" Abigail whispered uncomfortably.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Suppose this is a dream; I lie unconscious and you are not real."

"Or you are not." Abigail blinked thoughtfully, staring at Niobe's face. "It's none of my business, but those are the most intriguing contacts I've ever seen."

Niobe frowned at this, but before she could question Abigail, a dark tremor rippled through the dim light of the trees, darker than the general oppressive cloud hanging over the woods. Her eyes darted to the dark shade in the foliage creeping towards them, silent in its movement. There may have been more shades behind it.

Abigail lowered herself closer to the ground slowly, and whispered, "What is it?"

Niobe wordlessly mouthed _shadow_.


	11. Treetop Talan

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 10

"Treetop Talan"

As the paralysis induced by poison wore off, the paralysis of grief set in. The numbness caused by knowing he could not venture alone to another post in the night; it would not be safe were there ten to accompany him. His whole command appeared to be captured. Remnants of a battle between the spiders and the company on the _talan_ lay scattered around him with a snapped twig there, a thread of silk here, and the complete lack of personnel. They had been caught in a trap set by the infesting darkness; an entire post of nine trained warriors. How could he have known, and yet, how could he not have seen the danger?

Nusirilo, Altéru, Nessimon, Failon, Ohtallo, Veryatur, Ristar, Hereno.

The immortal mind did not forget.

Light from the stars overhead winked at him, but Tyelco's heart would not be soothed. All were yet captive in the cave. When this darkness passed, who among them would be alive? He cursed his inability to act. The wood was most dangerous at this late hour, especially with the cursed, manipulated spiders acting under the influence of an unseen evil. Were he recaptured, his knowledge would follow him to Mandos and the others would never be found. Yet, for every moment he hesitated, another immortal life could slowly be drained from its body.

He was resolved. There was no way he would allow himself to take rash action with so much at stake. Until daylight, it was best to remain at the platform and hope rescuers were on their way.

If that was not enough to press his mind, there was the pressing issue of the queer beings who had elected themselves his companions to consider.

They had the appearance of young, female _adan_, but they certainly were not as they appeared. Magic they had in spades, though they clearly were not _istari_. They seemed ignorant of the recently unleashed evil which must have been months, if not years, in the brewing, but were equal to the task of fighting it. He knew not if they were to be trusted. How did they end up in the cave, or even the forest? Why did they release him, but not the others? There were many questions he wished to ask them, but whatever language they spoke he did not recognize. It was, in all likelihood, Westron, but as a young elf Tyelco had never bothered to learn the coarse speech of _adan_ though he could speak and read in five languages.

The two had been quite content to pass food between themselves, while the obsidian-colored one discordantly piped out cacophonous litanies and played with the flame-colored one's hair jejunely. At least they'd kept the noise to an equitable level.

The smaller, obsidian one eventually drifted off into sleep atop a mat. As an elf, he had never seen a moral sleeping. It didn't take long for him to decide it looked terribly boring. Sleeping, the obsidian one glowed; her light had penetrated the surrounding platform and mat where it created a protected, safe area.

As for the flame one, she seemed to be lying awake and restless. The pair was a mystery he did not care to think upon tonight; there was watch to keep.

Unfortunately, he was having difficulty focusing. His mind wanted to retreat in on itself. He wanted to flee from the anguish as much as he wanted to fight back. Time did not even register within his senses, and he did not notice he had company until the restless mortal was next to him. How often these girls managed to catch him, an elf, unaware was greatly disturbing.

The flame one's legs shot out from under her and she comfortably settled down, her feet dangling over the precept. Tyelco scowled and avoided eye contact. He was furious that her stealth would not reveal its origin. Perhaps if he paid her no heed, she would go back to her mat and sleep as mortals required. There was a loud popping noise, the likes he'd never heard before. It startled him, which did nothing to improve his opinion of her.

With this one, it was always loud noises.

His first thought was that no _eleth_ would disgrace herself with such immodestly short skirts as these beings did. The second was trying to place what exactly the cylindrical container she offered was, what it contained, and what exactly she'd started babbling about.

Arielle decided that there were worse people to be stuck in a dismal forest full of mutant spiders with than the perpetually cheery Yumiko. Pointy Ears, for example.

He'd found a nice corner to sulk in and had stayed there all night. Not even the warm scent of ramen wafting through the air coaxed him over. That was fine with her. He could pout until morning if he was so grouchy about their presence. It wasn't as if he owed _them_ anything.

Dinner had consisted of ramen and soda the miko provided by reaching into her bag and drawing from the bottomless void contained within. Thus far, it had produced several firecrackers, a lighter, two bowls of ramen, pop, hairbrushes, towels, and a pair of pajamas for Yumiko. The kid was a regular Mary Poppins.

Arielle didn't know how Yumiko did it, but decided it was best not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Though not one for slumber parties, Arielle put up with the grooming (Yumiko attacked her hair with a neon green hairbrush and proceeded to braid it thoroughly) and the singing (but only because it was Madonna, and the song seemed to be driving Pointy Ears spare).

Yumiko, having filled her stomach, washed her face clean with a towel and a bowl of water, and looking quite sleepy from the long day, found where the platform's previous occupants had stowed the bedrolls and called it a night.

Out of habit, Arielle also lay down. The mat was immensely comfortable, but she soon gave up on sleep. She wasn't about to doze off here. Without a roof she felt naked every time a breeze passed over her. The platform was too exposed to the elements. Her company was too unfamiliar. Tyelco wasn't sleeping, and that meant there was the threat of attack was too imminent. Her status as being human was too precarious. If she shut her eyelids, eight glossy black eyes appeared behind them.

Rather than lay on her back awake, she decided to burn off her anxiety. Quietly slipping off the mat, she surveyed their location. If she had paper and pens she's take note of everything that'd happened, starting with the terrible anxiety she'd felt waking up that very morning. Though raiding Yumiko's bag was an option, it was too dark to write, even if she was now seeing further and clearer than she ever could at night back in Iowa.

Her throat constricted. Arielle didn't want to think about Iowa where nothing ever happened.

Stars peeked through the upper leaves. From this vantage point, she could view the vast, dark mass of which was forest and the jagged mountains beyond. All in all, it was an impressive sight; the platform was clearly designed for observation. Morning would be worth waking early for.

Bored and with nothing better to do, Arielle began snooping amid the supplies. There wasn't much stuff per se, but what there was, was exotically alien. Packets of whey bread were wrapped in large leaves, perfectly cut, proportioned, and packaged. There was a bag packed for travel; rations, a change of clothes nestled in a waxy covering to keep them dry, a knife, and what she assumed was a medical kit containing vials of herbs, liquids, bandages, and balm. She moved this into plain sight so that she wouldn't forget to have Pointy Ears take it with him whenever they left.

Moving on, Arielle's improved eyesight detected the subtle signs of a trap door. After fiddling with the opening mechanism, (and making sure Pointy Ears wasn't interested in what she was getting up to) she unlatched it only to have her breath stolen. She was face to face with the armory. There was a cache of arrows, each positioned appropriately as not to damage the feathers. Several long, and a few hunting, knives lay sheathed. But there was something else that caught her eye. Strange, beautiful, and immaculately crafted, Arielle couldn't resist reaching down and taking out an exquisite sword.

Though deceptively simplistic in design, it was a masterpiece in hand craftsmanship. Arielle didn't need to be an expert to know this. Everything from the scrolling to the weight felt exquisitely proportioned and was seamless. Annoying as perfectionists were, at least it meant their work was, well, perfect.

Quietly, she shut the cache leaving it as she'd found it minus one sword. Lazily, she rested the sheathed weapon over her shoulder.

Again, she was bored. Wandering near the thick supporting branches, Arielle climbed out to examine the tree. Clearly, it was not a species she was familiar with, although it must have been some kind of deciduous, flowering tree. The problem with that classification was that she recalled Mrs. Garlock explaining to her AP Bio class these types were typically small. Not that things here were normal, but it'd be nice if they could at least follow the usual taxonomy.

Without much light, Arielle bent in closer to the bark, trying to see how its pattern was laid out. It was delicately rippled and gray, like elephant skin. During her inspection, she came across an anomaly in the wood protruding at an angle. Shifting her position to enable moonlight to hit the spot, she was surprised to find an arrowhead stuck into the bark. Its shaft was broken off not far from a head and bared no resemblance to the meticulously crafted heads in the armory.

This was a functioning guard station, not an abandoned one as she'd first assumed. Pulling out the deeply embedded head, Arielle examined its make; crude but effective and chipped out of something like flint. Covering its surface was wet tree sap.

Touching the wound in the tree, she felt the ooze of stick sap. This shot had been made recently, as the tree had no chance to heal over. Arielle hadn't sensed anything flying through the air since the cave. Then it clicked.

The projectiles in the cave were arrows. There had been an attack here. Recently. Pointy Ears, with his own set of arrows, was obviously an archer who must've been stationed here. Their group was attacked by the spiders and the bipedal monsters in the cave.

Arielle felt her heart sink. Others must have been here with him. It made perfect sense that Pointy Ears was a sulking, frustrated, proud wreck tonight. They might be dead, or, she realized with horror, still in that cave somewhere.

Now knowing what to look for, Arielle saw other signs of struggle back on the platform; a deep slash in the woodwork, an overturned cooking pot she hadn't upset while exploring, and a bit of spider silk hanging from one of the leaves, although she didn't know if that meant anything. Perhaps that was from a normal spider.

Was it safe for them to remain here when the previous attack was, to all appearances, successful? Were they safe anywhere?

Sighing, she watched Pointy Ears for a moment. He didn't seem to register her existence, though she suspected his eyesight was better than he'd let on so far. Morose and looking a little vacant, he stared off into the night sky. Had he eaten anything? He hadn't moved, so probably not. Locating Yumiko's bag, Arielle stuck her hand in and fished around before clamping down on two cans of soda and a bag of, well, she wasn't sure _what_ kind of Japanese crisps these were, but they seemed to be made of rice, and rice was edible.

Armed with comfort food, her pretty sword, and divested of fire armaments and her jacket, Arielle plopped down uninvited next to Pointy Ears. Judging from the way his eyes narrowed and shifted irritably in her direction, Arielle figured she wasn't terribly welcome to her seat. Unperturbed by his condescension, she popped open a can and wordlessly offered the fizzy beverage to him. He was probably just acting tough in front of her and Yumiko for caution's sake. If all his friends were gone, it was most forgivable.

"Soda, good. No nutritional value whatsoever."

In typical Pointy Ears fashion, he contorted his face as though someone had stuck a smelly sock under his nose.

"_Food_. Edible. You eat things, don't you?" She popped open her own can and took a sip. "See? It won't kill me either."

He looked at the can she was offering, then back to the other as she drank her own. "Cherry soda. _Good_."

Setting both cans aside, she pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and spread it over the space between them, then moved the cans next to their respective owners. She popped open the bag of rice crisps. They were round, baked patties with a thin glaze of honey over the top; each was contained in handy packs of two. Arielle dumped the content onto the makeshift picnic cloth, then opened a packet and offered Pointy Ears a cake while taking a bite of the other sweet and salty treat.

Although he didn't accept the offering, he did examine the cake. However, instead of tasting the food or his drink, he picked up the clear plastic wrapper and scrutinized it thoroughly.

With an exasperated sigh, Arielle tossed the spare cake onto the top of the pile and laid back on the platform, her legs swinging out into space. "You're hopeless." Irritated, she took another bite of her cake. Couldn't this guy just give up this whole I'm-too-good-to-speak-to-you-lowly-incomprehensible-being-things thing?

As if answering her soliloquy, she heard the distinctive crunch of rice cake. Turning her head to the side, she saw him chewing haltingly, as if expecting something in the food to crawl out of his mouth and bit him. Arielle's chest trembled with a few chuckles as she watched. He took his second bite with the same precautionary air, ignoring her.

Without warning, his head shot up. He'd seen something in the distance. Arielle shot up as well, peering into the black night, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"What?" She whispered, knowing full well he couldn't understand her, but had seen something.

"_Adan."_ He remarked calmly, arming himself with his bow and quiver and standing.

Arielle squinted as she looked over the tree line and was about to give up searching when she noticed a wisp of smoke she'd mistaken for a cloud. Somebody was having a bonfire with a pack of spiders on the loose.

Arielle stood; it was clear Yumiko was tired and could hold her own, at least for awhile. No spider could cross her glowing boundary. Pointy Ears, on the other hand, would need assistance bringing back whoever was out in the middle of the forest. Whatever was out there, Arielle could do a better job fighting it off than he could.

Pointy Ears had other ideas. Sternly pointing to her sleeping mat, he commanded, _"Dortha."_

The meaning was clear. Like a dog, he was ordering her to stay. She muttered, "Tough shit pretty boy," slung her coat on, and picked up the sword. As Pointy Ears didn't care for her gun, she figured this would suit for now. Unfortunately, he caught on to her theft. Scathingly, he hissed at her; obviously, she didn't understand one word of the lecture. Just to irritate him, she tried to look as pleasant as possible. It didn't take him long to figure out she was mocking him. He turned and walked straight off the platform, dropping into the black below.

She shook her head, finally allowing her disgust to show, and spat, "Asshole."

Confident in her incarnation, Arielle dropped into the black after him. Following Pointy Ears wasn't easy, exactly. The bugger was fast, silent as the wind, and didn't leave much of a trail. On her own, Arielle could move faster, but following along mean tracking. This wasn't easy, as he darted through branches and could make surprisingly sharp turns as he ran out of branches underfoot. Luckily, with concentration, her new abilities allowed her to navigate in the dark and the air.

With their speed, it wasn't much more than fifteen minutes before Pointy Ears stopped, crouching low on a branch, and surveyed the flickering firelight ahead. Silently, Arielle dropped beside him to find a reassuring sight. Not that two half-naked girls who looked like they'd drown in the river was necessarily reassuring.

Their possession eased her mind; plastic violin cases and bicycles. Those didn't look like something found in this fairytale land.

Pointy Ears was having none of it. Glaring, he fluidly set and drew his bow in one easy motion.

Granted, he'd had a rough twenty-four hours, but that was no excuse for shooting first and asking questions later. Sensibly (though she was getting more and more annoyed), Arielle put her hand over the arrow, to which he, surprise of all surprises, glared.

Mustering a stern face and pointing to the branch, she ordered, _"Dortha." _

Arielle leapt into the air leaving Pointy Ears to pout on his own time.

Her landing by the fire was met with a short stick in her face. The petite, white, dirty-blonde female in a tank top, Dr. Matins, and panties wielded the stick as though she meant to take an eye out even if her jaw was a slackened "O."

The dark female clad in purple grinned pleasantly, her vividly violet eyes twinkling. "She is not the shadow, Abigail."

"O-oh," Abigail stammered, lowering her stick.

"Welcome to our fireside. I am Niobe Night Watson; this is Abigail Williams, and I fear we all," her eyes shifted askance as though to direct the newcomer to the source, "are about to be attacked."

_Dortha _ Stay


	12. Night Fight

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 11

"Night Fight"

* * *

Abigail watched in awe filled fascination as the redheaded newcomer reached over her shoulder to unsheathe her kanta in one precise arc, launched from her squat on the ground up over the fire, and sliced through the air. Two halves of a twitching, multi-limbed insect which had once been the size of a large cat, hit the ground beside her.

Abigail shrieked.

The unfazed Niobe drew a flaming branch from the fire and lashed out at something scuttling over the sand. Momentarily incapacitated from shock, Abigail watched in horror as more creatures dangled on threads from the dense black branches overhead.

Desperately trying to pull herself together, Abigail's mind riffled through scattered, decaying memories to find battle spells from _Harry Potter_, but everything was muddled in years of neglect, and the shock of seeing giant spiders. Her mind drew a blank. To make matters worse, she panicked as she recalled that conjuring fire had been hard enough. Wizards spent ages learning these things; she'd been at it for one afternoon. She wasn't sure she'd be able to perform a complicated spell like _expelliarmus _without studying and practicing it in a controlled environment.

Niobe's flaming branch swiped over Abigail's head, setting something living aflame in the process. Caught unaware by both the spider and Niobe, Abigail ducked, taking to the sand. Franticly looking over her surroundings, she saw her bag and its discarded content strewn amid a pack of spiders. They were crawling over and befouling her class notes, her textbooks, and her favorite pen.

_Her Harry Potter._

Incensed, she drew up her wand and bellowed, _"EXPELLIARMUS!"_

The spider, which had foolishly treaded its sticky legs over the beautiful hardcover edition, was cast back into the pitch of the forest. As for the other scuttling monsters, with a quick_"Incendo," _one caught flame, and the other was split in five parts at_"Diffindo!_" Little bits of yellow insect viscera landed on her Philosphy textbook, but she didn't mind that so much.

Haughtily raising her chin to survey the carnage, and indulging in a huff, Abigail found her handiwork satisfactory.

Without mercy, Arielle lashed out against the creepies, slicing them, dicing them; mincing the creepies with her very sharp and pointy sword. Before, she'd been content with her noisy lead, but now that she'd had her first taste of steel, or whatever this metal was, she found its raw, mercurial taste to her liking. With a blade she had complete control at all times. A bullet's course was set the moment it left the barrel. A sword in the hand was a bit more personal, and as these spiders had made this battle personal, it suited her just fine.

Overhead, Pointy Ears rained arrows down; he was a most impressive shot. Arielle grinned as she saw the blonde girl, Abigail, splinter a spider to bits with a blast of white light. A witch. During a lull in fighting provided by the exceptional marksman Pointy Ears, Arielle watched as a tranquil Niobe raised her arm, poised her fingers, and with the swift clenching of her fist a creepie dropped from a branch to the ground. It was crushed to death. The violet-eyed stoic did not so much as blink. Arielle realized that between the four of them, the spiders would momentarily be dispatched and permitted herself a smug grin.

It was wiped off her face when time began to slow and she was forced to narrowly dodge a crude, rough-hewn arrow. The head's make was similar to the one lodged in the tree on the platform. These bipedal creatures were, in fact, the same attackers of Pointy Ear's home.

They shot a second and third arrow from her right. Dodging these suckers was hard and the sword was little use against projectiles or for retaliating. In the end, she decided she preferred guns.

At seeing Niobe stop an arrow mid-air, Arielle leapt up. Pointy Ears was in a tree on his own. These things had captured him once and she wasn't about to let them to get away with a second kidnapping. Especially if these fuckers had taken his family.

She sensed danger from the ground below Pointy Ears moments before the creatures spotted him. He was still up in the trees, faintly glowing now as he returned fire at whatever had set him in its sight below. An arrow streaked past him. Arielle honed in on the source, raced across the forest floor, and swiped away the undergrowth with her kanta.

The disturbed emerald leaves fluttered to the ground. Before her, gasping and choking in its own black blood was the foulest monster Arielle had ever had the misfortune to look upon. Thinned patches of long, unmanaged hair grew from its blotched head. Open sores covered its body; its jaw was lop-sided. It barely wore a stitch of clothing, was filthy, and armed with a hackneyed set of arrows and a bow.

Repulsed, Arielle cleanly sliced through the repugnant thing and flicked the black blood from the sword edge with a snap of her wrist. Pointy Ears sent an arrow flying; it struck home in another thing. She could tell because of the unearthly wail it screeched.

_"They reek. Ugh." _She thought.

Over the sounds of battle coming from the campsite, Arielle startled as something sounding like a cross between a howl and a growl reverberated through the heavy air. With the noise, there was a rush of movement back into the forest.

The evil creatures were retreating.

Pointy Ears let off one last shot; it too sounded to have hit home, though Arielle could barely see where the arrow went.

Without disturbing a breath of air, he gracefully landed beside her. His chin may have been inclined arrogantly, but with the friendliest expression directed towards her thus far, he raised an approving eyebrow.

"That," Arielle proclaimed, "is fucking teamwork. Let's see how the girls are doing, _ne_?"

Niobe had no pity for the creatures. They radiated an oppressive, putrid darkness which closed in on her senses like a miasma. It was so mentally and physically constricting that she morbidly wondered if it might suffocate her were the source not dispatched. Fortunately, it did not take much presence of mind to work her abilities; for some odd reason, she felt as though she'd already learned and understood how the mechanics of it worked. She just got it, plain and simple.

As a spider rapidity descended upon her, she instinctually knew that reaching out with her mind could crush it. Her focus was so great that she did not notice how her arm moved to physically mimic the mental projection until the monster was dead.

She only sensed the arrow heading her way, and then responded accordingly; she never saw it coming.

Thus, she handled the situation; watching Abigail's back and keeping track of what the redhead was up to. Within a minute, the newcomer shot off into the canopy, leaving them to deal with a thinning cloud of shadow. All seemed to taper off until a bulking shadow rushed at her from behind; it was far larger than the spiders. As she wondered what it could be, Niobe turned to battle it.

The monster stood before her. Its muscles bulged as it raised a scimitar overhead to strike. It was so close Niobe could see the wear on the human teeth it wore as a necklace. She could feel the heat and stench of its body; she held her breath after her first whiff.

Casually, and reflexively, the "Force" took hold of a cartilage ring in the monster's esophagus and popped it inward, choking it with hardly any effort.

Stunned, the creature dropped its weapon. It opened its mouth as if to take a breath, but not even its lungs could expand. Fearfully, it scratched at its neck drawing its own blood. Within moments, it fell to its knees, writhing silently.

The more it struggled, the closer it came to death, and the more the creature's dark miasma thinned. From within. Niobe noted that this had not occurred with the spiders at all; they simply blinked out of existence. This was different. In rapt attention, Niobe took a breath and plunged into the darkness, searching for what within the creature was clearing away the dark. Just as Niobe feared it would die before her curiosity was satisfied, she saw a flicker of light burning inside of the creature, licking away at the dark.

In a rush, her head reeling, Niobe pulled out, gasping to find herself on her knees and Abigail's reassuring weight against her back. Instantly, she righted the cartilage ring and the thing stopped flailing. On the balls of its feet and knuckles, it snatched up its weapon, and with something between self-righteousness and caution, stared Niobe him in the eye. Therein, Niobe saw a flicker of intelligence.

Standing, he threw back his head and yelped a snarl. All the advancing shadow halted and turned back. Except for him; he growled at Niobe and bared his teeth. Niobe smiled kindly in return.

Seconds later, there was nothing before her but the heavy, stale air and the night.

"Niobe?" Abigail queried pleasantly.

Niobe returned in kind. "Mmm?"

"Dear Holy Lord; _Mother of Pearl_; what the blazes was that about?!" She shrieked.

"Perhaps we are trespassing." Niobe suggested conversationally.

Abigail scoffed and peered into the darkness. "And where did that girl go off to? You don't suppose she was hurt, do you?"

"She was attending to matters elsewhere." Niobe closed her eyes and after some searching found her. As they'd only met her momentarily, her signature was not as familiar as Abigail's, but was not hard to find. There was a great deal of light heading their way. "It appears she is well and returning to us."

"Finally," Abigail sighed, snatching her skirt off the tree branch clothesline, "someone to explain what's going on and what this place is."

Niobe shook her head. "I fear she may be in our boat as well."

"Oh, well, this is just perfect," Abigail snapped sarcastically to no one in particular and slipped her skirt on. It wasn't quite dry, but she was feeling ridiculous wandering around in her knicker bottoms. "We were just attacked and no one knows the reason, or knows where we are, and. . .oh look, look at this! They've mucked up my Harry Potter. That does it; I'm plucking every spindly leg off their carcasses."

"Who are we rending limb from limb?"

Both Niobe and Abigail turned to see the redhead stroll back into the circle of firelight, her sword sheathed, and eyebrows raised in amusement.

Niobe quickly stood, as she'd not moved since the incident with the monster, and walked over with a hand extended. "You are well. We thank you for you timely arrival and assistance." Over the other's shoulder, Niobe noticed a being of light taking shelter in the trees.

The girl took the offered hand and shook vigorously. "Arielle O'Neill. Anytime."

"It is a pleasure, Arielle." Niobe assessed the newcomer's clothes. Both her name and attire suggested she'd once resided on Earth. However, she was not wet. "I assume you also are from Earth and among the dearly departed?"

Arielle squinted. "What the hell is going on?"

Niobe laughed, waving her hand soothingly. "I didn't mean to presume. Both Abigail and I arrived here through the river after meeting untimely ends."

"You say you came through that river?" Arielle took a few steps foreword and pointed.

"Aye."

As if trying to nail the concept Arielle asked, "You died too?"

"Yes, as did Abigail."

"And you're from Earth?"

Niobe politely reaffirmed, "Scotland—and New Zeland respectively."

"So it's the same story for everybody. Any ideas on where we are, or how we ended up here?"

"Nothing conclusive. We'd be happy to entertain any suggestions you may have."

One hand on her hip and the other rubbing her forehead, Arielle sighed. "Just when I think shit might start making sense." She then looked up at the compassionate Niobe. "I woke up in a cave north of here with a Japanese girl, Yumiko. She speaks maybe five words of English. It was," she poked a carcass with her sword, "a nest for these things."

Niobe raised both eyebrows. "Nest?"

"The place was overrun. We got out with. . ." Arielle turned, looking over her shoulder. "Damnit." She then proceeded to yell, "Pointy Ears, would you stop hiding and get your hoity ass over here? They don't bite."

Walking and buttoning her skirt, Abigail asked, "Pointy Ears isn't his name, is it?"

"No, but he doesn't speak any language I know and won't introduce himself. I'm not even sure what he _is_."

Niobe and Abigail exchanged glances.

"Do you suppose we're on another planet then?" Abigail asked hesitantly. Niobe shrugged and Arielle threw up her hands in defeat before slipping back into the woods. There was a brief rustle of leaves, and momentarily, she emerged dragging a handsome, scowling blond man after her. His pale form glowed in the dark; it wasn't just Niobe's vision. Once in the firelight, he shook off Arielle and stood erect, puffing himself up as if to intimidate everyone. The redhead didn't notice.

"Don't mind him. If the stick in his ass went up any further, he wouldn't be able to sit without rupturing a kidney." Arielle put her hands on Abigail's shoulders, which wasn't difficult as the tiny girl barely reached Arielle's shoulders. "Pointy Ears, this is Abigail._ Abb-i-gaīl_."

Niobe was surprised to see that both of his ears were, in fact, pointed at the tips.

Weak with what must have been the shock and awe of meeting her first alien, Abigail waved meekly in return. "'Ello."

Pointy Ears crinkled his nose.

"And this," Arielle then moved beside the taller Niobe, who smiled warmly in greeting, "is Niobe. _Ni-ō-be_."

Avidly repulsed, Pointy Ears began muttering in his own language under his breath. Without meaning to, his eyes momentarily met with Niobe's. Suddenly, she could hear him as if he were speaking aloud, except it was within her head.

_"—Filthy morals, and now a Haradrum beyond our borders. Where they've—"_

That was unexpected. Intrigued both by the snippet of thought and her ability to interpret it, Niobe desired to make contact. Picking up his voice wasn't at all unlike picking up the tree voices, only he was very loud and far more coherent. Drawing from her previously successful interaction with plants, she decided to try reciprocating the contact. Besides, his opinions may have been tempered by Arielle's forceful, but well meaning, personality and could be very confused about the strange predicament they were all in.

_"Haradrum? Whatever do you mean?" _she asked pleasantly telepathically.

Pointy Ears froze. His breathing stopped, and his eyes latched to hers. Niobe silently chastised herself for invading his mind. She really had no business within it. _"Pardon my intrusion; I would not use this method, but none of us speak your language. We have no ill intentions. I am Niobe Night Watson of St. Andrew's. Your companion is Arielle O'Neill, though I'm not sure where she's from, and mine is Abigail Williams from Wellington, New Zealand. We are all very, very lost . . ."_

As Niobe spoke, his mouth gaped more and more in absolute shock until the connection was lost and he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.

"Oh! No, no, no, no, no, no!" Niobe said in rapid succession, motioning for him to get up.

Wide-eyed in astonishment, Arielle shouted accusingly, "What did you do?!"

"I was only trying to speak with him and it sort of happened mentally and I need eye contact to do it," Niobe insisted worriedly. "Good heavens; up, up, it's not that impressive."

Her hand motions got his attention. As she met his eye once again, she felt a flicker of fear rippling over his consciousness. He spoke aloud in his own language unintelligibly, but the meaning was clear within his mind. _"Forgive my impertinence and quickness to judge; I know not what you are. Never have I heard of beings bearing your likeness in all this Middle-Earth. Though you appear mortal, you have gifts I thought only the Lady of Light possessed. You must be of the light to see into the thoughts of others, though I know not how. The Valar would never bless one who did not deserve such a gift. Forgive me, I thought you Haradrum, of the East." _

Niobe wasn't sure if she was translating his mental conceptualization of his words correctly. It was possible there were no English equivalents to his words. _"Mortal? Haradrum? What do you mean by this?" _

Niobe openly displayed her confusion, while his was only detectable in his aura, probably out of politeness. _"Haradrum are mortal men of the East, corrupt and forsaken. Never have I met one, but I have been told by those who have encountered them that their skin resembles your shade. You must have journeyed far, for the mortals near our border do not have your power or countenance." _

Niobe chuckled in return, _"I have never met nor heard of anyone with ears such as yours." _

His head tilted to the side. _"Your people do not know of _edhel_?" _

He was referring to his own race. Apparently, he was an _edhel _. _"No. Nor am I one of these Haradrum. However, I would suggest refraining from making such assumptions. We are strange beings. Assumptions always end up wrong, one way or another." _

Again, his face remained stoic, but he rippled with embarrassment. _"I have been extremely rude, Lady Niobe Night Watson."_

"_It's only Niobe." _

He nodded. _"Lady Niobe, I shall not underestimate you again. Are you an immortal as well?" _

Niobe blinked, flabbergasted. Of all things, she wasn't exactly expecting this. _"Immortal? Is that what you are?" _

_"Yes. Our heritage is of the _Eldar_, we are _Sindarin edhel _. I am Ensign Tyelco. My father is Captain Noloquin, both of his Majesty King Thranduil of _Eryn Leasgalen's_ border guard." _

_"Then we are in a place called _Eryn Leasgalen_?" _Niobe had no idea of what to make of this.

_"Yes, my lady." _

_"Give me a moment to explain to my companions." _Niobe requested and turned to her astounded counterparts. "He says his name is Tyelco, a border guard for the kingdom we're in, _Eryn Leasgalen_. He also claims to be an "immortal." An _edhel _, I think he said although, I'm not certain of what he means by this. There are "mortals" running around here as well, and we look like them, but we aren't those either."

Arielle pointed at Tyelco and demanded, "How are you doing that?"

"I believe I am using telepathy. It wasn't on purpose, but I picked up on his thoughts and we've been thinking to each other. He says there is another woman here with my power. She is called the Lady of Light, but that could be a mistranslation. Perhaps she would have answers for us," Niobe mused.

"It really is sort of like a jedi, isn't it?" Abigail rubbed her hands excitedly.

Arielle interrupted Abigail, again demanding clarification. "So, you're talking to him?"

"Yes."

"Then this light lady wouldn't be Yumiko, would it?" Arielle asked in a rush.

"Who?"

"The other girl I woke up in the cave with. The Japanese girl, Yumiko. Hardly speaks English? We left her sleeping at his tree house when we saw your campfire."

"No, this Lady of Light sounds well-known and respected by him. He barely knows you."

"Then ask him about the cave; ask him how he ended up there, what happened, and what's up with the spiders." Arielle listed the questions off on her fingers.

Niobe refrained from questioning Arielle herself and turned to the patient Tyelco. _"Arielle wishes to know what happened in the cave, how you came to be there, and wishes to know about the spider attacks."_

He complied. _"My company was stationed as border patrol on a platform not far from here. We were attacked by these same spiders; it is not in their nature to gather in such large numbers and we were not prepared for the assault. All of us were captured. I awoke in the cave with the obsidian haired one reviving me with her magic._

"_At daylight, I must head back to my command to warn them and prepare a rescue mission. As you have experienced, it is far too dangerous to travel by night, and I must live should any be returned alive. Warning must be sent to the king, for I've seen with my own eyes that the spiders now have /i _urk_ i organizing them in secret against us."_ Deep sorrow flowed through him to the point of which it physically hurt and transferred somewhat to Niobe.

_"There are others in this cave? And if you are immortal, why fear for the lives of your companions?"_ Niobe asked, intrigued by his concept of 'immortal' and deeply concerned for their safety. The creatures who'd just attacked them were extremely dark, both the spiders and _urk _.

_"There are eight I am aware of; there were nine of us, including myself, in the company. The _Eldar_ will live without end save for the infliction of a mortal wound. Captured, their lives are in great danger." _

Then time was of the essence, as his friends were in danger. She turned to Arielle immediately. "He said he'd been in charge of a company of borders guards when they were attacked. As they were captured together, he believes they are still in the cave. Did you see anyone else?"

"There were other people?!" Arielle grabbed a clump of hair at her scalp, "Of course I didn't see anyone else! We'd have rescued them too!"

Abigail, feeling thoroughly excluded, interjected, "What exactly happened to you and Yumiko, from the beginning, if you please."

It did not appear Arielle was used to answering to others, and her shoulders stiffened at Abigail's demand tinged with condescension. "I died, in Iowa, the US. I woke up in the cave surrounded by spiders. Yumiko was shouting for help and he was with her, barely conscious. She's got some sort of energy power. It's bright pink and kinda feels fuzzy." This got blank stares, "Anyway, I had a gun and her pink stuff fried any spider touching it. We dragged him out with us. I couldn't tell you how or where she found him. She'd be the one to ask, but she only speaks Japane—hey, you could mind-speak with Yumiko, right? We could go back to the cave and get everyone out. I bet we've killed most of the spiders. The five of us could handle a rescue."

Niobe rubbed her chin, considering the idea while Abigail shook her head, astonished anyone would even contemplate such a suicidal maneuver. "You mean attack those things? We couldn't possibly!"

Arielle liked this girl less and less. "You did just fine around here."

"They attacked us! That's one thing, but it's an entirely different matter to go into a nest of those, those i _spiders /i _. Wouldn't it be prudent for Tyelco to go back to his own army, those who've dealt with these spiders before, and let them handle their own extermination? It's their country after all."

Arielle rolled her eyes. "They won't care if we kill off all the spiders. And it's not as if they're used to dealing with this. You said the spiders were acting funny, didn't you Niobe?"

"Indeed. Tyelco's people are familiar with these creatures' habits. It appears the spiders are being organized by dark, but intelligent beings he calls _urk_. His people are quite proud, and I do not know if they are properly equipped to handle the severity of the problem or even if help can arrive before it's too late. Give me a moment." Niobe turned to an apprehensive Tyelco who'd been waiting as the girls chatted, _"Friend, tell me, how much longer do you think those who are still in the cave have?" _

His countenance dropped further, but he held his emotions in check. _"With the number of spiders there are, it is likely several are already dead." _

_"Then we have little time."_ Niobe turned back to the girls. "He says it is likely some are already dead. I've felt the darkness of these creatures; if he waits for assistance from his people, I do not know how many would survive. Arielle, I will ask Tyelco if he wishes to mount a rescue tomorrow. If so, I will join you both."

"Good." Arielle nodded, and then turned to Abigail, "If you're coming with, you'd better start packing."

"This is stupid! None of us are trained for this sort of thing. How are we to rescue anyone?" She turned to Arielle, "Are you even out of secondary school?"

Arielle jutted out her chin, frowning. "Are you?"

Both girls were fuming.

"Just so you know," Abigail snapped, "I'm a senior in college. i _Twenty-two /i _. And I don't think we should go and get ourselves involved in some local dispute that's none of our business. We haven't any idea what the diplomatic repercussions might be. We're representing _Earth_!"

"It became our business when, I don't know, _they_ attacked _us._"

Niobe doubted their argument would be much more productive. "Enough. Abigail, your concerns are legitimate. However, I assure you, the spiders who attacked us were not of the light. They are not beings to be allied or reasoned with. Tyelco, on the other hand, is more of the light than you or myself. If his companions are even half his brilliance, their lives are most worthy. So friendly a gesture as a rescue would win us allies. Besides," Niobe placed a hand on Abigail's shoulder, "you have already died. It is unlikely we will be going home anytime soon. For now, you have been blessed with gifts unusual even for this world. You must decide how to use them."

All her life, Abigail had sequestered herself away, gathering and acquiring knowledge. The only time she ever demonstrated it was in term papers. As for actually putting it to use productively, well, she had supposed that was for later when she began her thesis. There was something about Niobe's liquid violet eyes that both brought foreword her fear of action and at once soothed it. Perhaps it was time to make herself useful.

Then she saw Arielle, smirking and smug. Darkly muttering threats about how foolish this place was making her, Abigail began gathering up all her things.

Turning to Arielle who'd just straightened out her face, Niobe asked, "You are sure?"

"No qualms. We go back for Yumiko, though. This'll take all of us. If the others are unconscious too, we'll need her to revive them."

"Of course we will." Niobe smiled at Tyelco. _"Tyelco, would you consent for us to return to the cave and rescue your friends at sunrise?" _

Tyelco erected his shoulders and drew his head back, his eyes questioning Niobe _"What do you mean, my lady? The cave was swarming with spiders and it was difficult enough for us to escape. It would take a day or two for any company large enough . . ."_

"_But you do not have a day or two. You barely have tonight. Abigail and I are capable of fending for ourselves, and if Arielle's story is true, she and Yumiko were able to assist you temporarily injured. Arielle also feels that with the number of spiders destroyed on your way out, this round will be easier. Do not fear. We shall find Yumiko and be on our way in the morning."_

"_You truly wish to do this when you have no obligation to me?"_ He asked incredulously.

Niobe supposed that obligation was a relative term. _"I do have an obligation to you, but now is not the time to discuss such." _Niobe waved off his concern._ "Besides, my companions and I are, as far as we can recall, dead and returned. We assume Yumiko would say the same." _

His eyes went wide, and a wave of reverence once again rippled through him. This time it encompassed all the girls. He looked at Arielle, who was impatiently switching feet, with shock and then to Niobe. _"She as well?" _

"_Yes, Arielle as well." _

Tyelco looked to be doing some very tough thinking. _"I would say no, for we would be few in number. There are none to call for aid, and I've heard _urk_ do terrible things to women should they be captured. But the only being I've ever known to come back from beyond the veil was a great warrior. You must also be great warriors to receive such an honor, if it is true. I consent to receive your aid and thank you, Lady Niobe Night Watson." _

Niobe chuckled, _"Just Niobe, friend. And it is not I who you should thank. Direct that to Arielle. Were the rest of us to seek help elsewhere, I think she would return alone. That others were left in the cave greatly troubles her; her pride in such matters is as great as yours. Relax. We will do what we can." _

Abigail came up along side them. "Everything's packed; here's your coat and violin. Anyone object to the fire being put out?"

Niobe shook her head, and Arielle edged toward the forest.

Sighing, Abigail said, "Right," and put out the flames with sand. She then whipped out her wand.

_"Lumos!" _She slung her backpack on, gathered her bicycle, and stood next to Niobe. "We off then?"

For the nth time that night, Tyelco was dumbstruck and demanded Niobe's attention, _"_ _She_ _is _istari_?"_

"_Abigail appears to be a witch, if that is what you mean_._"_

"_We have _istari_ in our world. They are all male, she is female. Their countenance is of aged men, she is a child."_

"_Remember what we spoke of? Reordering your assumptions will ease your mind, Tyelco. I have been doing so ever since I arrived in your country. Abigail means you no harm; she wishes to assist you and your people."_

"_Then she is _istari_,"_ He stated confidently, and a faint smile, the first Niobe had seen him wear, sat at the corners of his mouth.

Before Niobe could ask for clarification, Arielle lost her patience. "You'd better tell him you can't run as fast as he can. It's a long way walking on the ground, and he can't be running off on you guys. I'm going back now. Those _urk _things have arrows. I don't want Yumiko alone."

"Of course," Niobe nodded to Arielle. "Be careful. Do not stop to attack should you see them."

"I know, I know," Arielle waved Niobe on. "Safety first, nothing stupid. May the Force be with you. "

Niobe laughed, as Arielle faded into the darkness of the trees.

"Yes, I couldn't see that quip coming a mile off," Abigail mocked. "Well, if you'd consent, I think I could manage to make this thing fly."

Niobe looked over the bike. "Fly?"

"Oh, yes, I think I could manage the spell, and it'd be a good deal faster than walking, without any doubt. Though, I don't know if it would be faster than riding a bike on the ground. I might have to be the one actually steering, but I think I could fit you on the handle bars and him on the back spokes. It'll be cramped, but should hold us all."

"Allow me to ask Tyelco."

His head rose at the mention of his name.

_"Tyelco, Arielle has left. She is returning as fast as she can to Yumiko. As it would be a long way to walk back for us and you are our guide, Abigail has offered to enchant her bike to fly us there."_

"_Fly?" _Apparently, the situation was getting to him. His thoughts were being rendered difficult to understand due to the inundation of emotions.

Niobe nodded, and Tyelco rubbed his forehead, watching Abigail tinker with spell casting, adjust a gear on her bike, and then try again._"This is a great deal for me to take in, my lady. She can enchant this, you call it a bike? To fly us all the way to the platform?"_

"_She says she might be able to. If so, it would be faster than walking, though it may take her a moment to get it right. She's only been doing magic for the past few hours."_

"_Few hours?"_

"_That is how long all of us have been reawakened; a very short time." _

Tyelco winced. _"This is most irregular." _

There was a squeal of delight, and when Niobe and Tyelco turned, they saw Abigail bouncing on her feet and adoringly hugging her bike as it hovered two feet over the ground.

"Come on, come on, I can't wait to give it a go! And look; I can switch on the little headlight without using the battery." She tittered, "It's so cute."

Minutes later, the three were weaving their way three feet above and through the forest undergrowth. Niobe peddled; she was so tall and Abigail so tiny that the smaller girl couldn't see where she was going with Niobe sitting on the handlebars. Abigail perched up front holding out the light and Tyelco clinging to Niobe from behind in fear, they looked a bit like a circus act. At any rate, she wasn't tiring of pedaling and it was a good deal faster than walking.

What did concern her was the safety of Arielle and Yumiko. She could not tell if either was in danger, but felt as though something had happened. Hopefully, it was nothing serious.

Arielle almost sighed in relief. For a few moments, she'd thought she'd gotten lost. In the middle of the night all trees tend to look alike. However, she did manage to find the taller branches of the platform tree distinctly jutting up into the starlight, and found her way back after half an hour.

Dropping noiselessly onto the wood, her heart skipped a beat.

There were their sleeping mats exactly as they'd left them except no Yumiko. Arielle ripped aside the girl's blanket to find nothing but the faded imprint of a body. The bottomless backpack was missing as well. At least this was an indication that the girl had left of her own free will. Snooping around to see if she hadn't just slipped off to find a bush to pee behind, Arielle saw something interesting.

Little paw prints. Like a cat's.


	13. Yumiko's New Friend

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 12

"Yumiko's New Friend"

* * *

_Yumiko was delightfully full. Spread over the family table was a feast for Obon; the food was rich and light, all delicious and delectable. Her rowdy family was finishing up desert. Somehow, her brother had gotten hold of a Popsicle and couldn't refrain from poking her; once in the collarbone, once on her chin, then against her nose, but she couldn't manage to bring her leaden hands up and swat him away. . ._

With a start, Yumiko sat upright on her mat, upsetting the creamy ball of fur which had been sniffing her face. It ran to the edge of the platform and froze, terrified. Yumiko went still and wide eyed as well.

It was adorable! It was cuddly! It was bold and fuzzy! Yumiko decided she wanted one.

"_Neko,_" she cooed, motioning for the cream colored kitty with orange eyes to come over and sniff her fingers. "_Neko,neko,neko,neko,neko_."

The kitty twitched her bushy tail and cocked her head, but came no closer. "_Mew_?" she meowed in question, trying to discern if this being whose breath faintly smelled of fish was friendly.

Yumiko remembered her bag. She slowly reached into it and drew out a tin of sardines. Curious, the kitty put a tentative paw foreword.

The tin popped open nosily. Frightened, the tree kitty skittered out onto a branch, making a run for it.

Yumiko would not be deterred! This was her first chance at having a real pet and she wasn't about to give it up so easily. Fluidly slipping her backpack on, she took off into the maze of sturdy branches, barefoot and dewy-eyed. She'd have her pet, and with such a good bribe as yummy sardines she was confident she could achieve just that!

Arielle was ready to panic. The kid's shoes were neatly set at the end of her mat with the blanket carelessly tossed over them. Why on earth would she venture off into a dangerous forest without shoes?

Arielle knew she shouldn't follow. The others were meeting her here and it was enough that one person was lost and on their own; they didn't need two. Yet sitting and doing nothing was not an acceptable alternative. Out of fruitless frustration, Arielle re-armed herself with her firearm and ammo, and slung the sword over her back. After pacing impatiently for an indistinguishable length of time, Arielle heard the sound of female voices going up the rope ladder from below. She practically stepped on Abigail as she slid down the trunk and landed near her heads.

"She'd gone!"

Abigail nearly lost her grip at the sight of someone free-falling directly upon her. After having fallen to her death, she hadn't particularly looked foreword to climbing trees again. "What are you going on about?"

Characteristically, Arielle ignored the question and sought out Niobe who was following after the blonde.

"What has happened Arielle?"

"Yumiko! She's not up there; Pointy Ears, oh hell, _Tyelco_."

He immediately went alert, circumvented the other girls, and lightly leapt onto her branch. After all the condescension, his unitary attentiveness was a bit unnerving. With exaggerative gestures, Arielle motioned upward. "We have a problem. _Yumiko. _Gone"

Without a single facial expression, he reached down and gathered the terrified, very vocal Abigail into his arms without a complaint on his end.

Thoughts seemed to be exchanged between the jedi and Pointy Ears. After a moment, he nodded to Arielle, and together they began climbing up through the branches.

"No, no, not good! Don't jump that!" Abigail shrieked as Pointy Ears easily sprung up again and again as though he had no burden at all. Momentarily, they reached the top. Abigail gratefully slinked to the center of the platform upon being set down.

Pointy Ears knelt beside the mat where Yumiko had slept, analyzing the area. His eyes swept back and forth. It was as though he could see something Arielle could not.

"Look." Arielle pointed out the dusty paw prints and with a finger. He nodded, then directed her to the faintest claw marks in the tree bark, leading away. Indeed, he could she what she could not

Behind her, there was a light thump. Gracefully, Niobe rose over the ledge and her eyes latching to Pointy Ear's. It was like watching an impromptu staring competition. Arielle snatched up Yumiko's dainty, dirty sneakers unable to stand the silence.

"We're going after her," Arielle stated.

Niobe nodded, turning to Arielle. "Tyelco can see her trail. He will lead us. She doesn't appear to be in immediate danger."

"You—we're going where?" Abigail questioned apprehensively.

Arielle wanted to slap her. So what if Yumiko had wandered off on her own? Just because it wasn't Abigail's friend out there, alone, in a forest with mutant spiders didn't mean she should be left to her folly.

Niobe replied to the query before Arielle could say anything rash. "I will assist you, Abigail. We're going out onto the branches."

Sighing heavily, Abigail drew her wand. "I used to climb rock walls and trees all the time. It seems plummeting to my death has altered my fondness. We are coming back for my bicycle, aren't we?"

_To hell with your damn bicycle._

Arielle hurried out into the canopy after Pointy Ears, leaving Niobe and Abigail to converse softly behind them. He moved confidently with his eyes fixed on the invisible trail before him and she followed dutifully behind, accepting his ability to find the trace of Yumiko. There was a twinge in her chest; this was the first time she openly appreciated his presence instead of resenting it, and that was an awkward mental shift.

With both Arielle and Pointy Ears watching the trail, Abigail was the first to notice the faint pink glow a good distance ahead. "Excuse me, before we get too egger, would someone mind explaining what exactly _that_ is?"

With her attention properly aligned, Arielle managed to get a few seconds head start on Pointy Ears. Momentarily, she had outstripped him, pushing through the dense leaves as they scratched at her face. Bursting into the circle of light, Arielle saw Yumiko curled up in the crook of a branch, a fuzzy creature on her lap.

Arielle shouted, "Yumiko!" waking the confused girl and sending the creature aloft.

Dropping to her knees, her weapons clanking about, Arielle seized Yumiko with a strangling hug. "Don't you run off again," She chided gently, releasing the sleepy Yumiko as Pointy Ears skidded to a stop, his bow knocked and ready. "What were you thinking?!"

Yumiko giggled, and finally getting a good look at the girl, Arielle noticed that somehow Yumiko's clothes had changed into a comfortable blue yukata. She looked up, and with a sharp whistle from Yumiko, a cream-colored cat bounded down the branches, perching on the girl's shoulder.

"The hell is this thing?" Arielle demanded neither a fan of pets or finding this a suitable reason for leaving the relative safety of Pointy Ear's platform. Yumiko manhandled the poor beast off her shoulder, its claws digging into the cotton fabric.

"Neko!" Holding the cat up by the armpits, it looked quite uncomfortable and its head tilted to the side. Yumiko gleefully presented Neko to Arielle.

"_Mew_?" Neko asked.

Arielle pinched the bridge of her nose and passed the girl her sneakers. Yumiko slipped them on, and then nuzzled the cat while affectionately cooing endearments in Japanese.

"You've found her." Niobe entered, her relief enveloping her whole being and peculating out to ease the others' tension.

"Yeah."

"_Konichiwa_!" Yumiko stood with Neko settling on her shoulder. Neko's tail wrapped around and settled into the crook of her mistress' neck.

Arielle smirked as the jedi and miko's eyes met, knowing the miko's face would soon resemble that of a child who's seen a very shiny object. Turning to see what else was going on, she saw Abigail slowly making her way to the sturdier branches near the tree trunk, her wand out and grasping at anything close enough to support her. Frowning at initially missing Pointy Ears, she turned about only to find him exactly where she'd left him.

He was staring at something impressive. In fact, he was gaping and those penetrating blue eyes were fixed. Arielle made her way to his side, seeking what had caught his attention; not that she was expecting to see much. For some reason, he found the stupidest things fascinating. And he hadn't even noticed her, right there, next to him.

Setting a hand on his shoulder, his head whipped around. "What is it?"

Pointy Ears then did something she hadn't been expecting; he took her wrist and led her away from the group. His grip was gentle, though insistent and his hand was not unpleasantly cool. The two went a short ways onto the intertwining limbs of a neighboring tree. With reverence, he lowered a bough, placing an ugly, greyish leaf in her hand without plucking it. Arielle felt the unusually dry leaf, noting a few blemishes spotting the entire group. Once he felt she'd viewed the leaves long enough, he took her wrist again and led her back to the group. Arielle immediately got what it he'd meant. The tree Yumiko had slept on was now a brilliant white. Its leaves were a lustrous green. He drew another bough for her to examine and she smiled back, amused by the gentleness with which he touched the branches.

"Cool," Arielle commented. "Yumiko's got a cure for Fairyland Dutch-Elm disease."

He said something then, but it was all Greek to Arielle, and his tone grew distinctly irritated. For an instant, she thought she saw disappointment flicker across his vision. There was simply no way she could understand what he said. It would be stupid and pointless, but she still felt like apologizing.

"Arielle, Tyelco," Niobe called. The three other girls were standing up and moving out; Yumiko and Abigail helped each other navigate the tangle of branches.

"We are returning to the _talan_; the platform. If we are to attack, we will need a plan of action. Yumiko and Abigail need to sleep. I ought to as well, reluctant as I may be to put this off."

"There isn't time." It had not occurred to Arielle that they'd be waiting.

"We need everyone, Arielle. If we are to succeed, we must see to our own well being." Niobe reasoned.

"They could be dying. They could all be dead by morning."

"Yes, this is so. But Abigail was right; we are no trained warriors."

Yumiko giggled loudly, offering some rice cakes to Abigail who was scratching behind Neko's ears.

"Thank you. So much better than peanuts!" Abigail said.

Niobe raised an eyebrow (Arielle was sure Niobe and Pointy Ears practiced), and then pointedly examined a scrape across Arielle's shoulder. "Do try to remember that though we have been gifted, we have our human weaknesses."

Cross, Arielle rubbed away some of the crusted blood on her arm and left the jedi and Pointy Ears to hold a silent conversation.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Neko_ (Japanese, or J) Cat

_Konichiwa_ (J) Hello

_Talan_ (Sindarin, or S) Elven tree platform


	14. A Mind of One's Own

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 13

**"A Mind of One's Own"**

* * *

At least some things were predictable. While the other girls slept, Arielle spent the remainder of the night sorting through an attack plan and stargazing with Pointy Ears. Tyelco. Which ever. 

Instead of setting a glare on Arielle when she approached, he let her sit at his side without complaint. Quiet and still during the night, he stirred only as the sun rose. Sunrise over a leafy gray-green sea with Tyelco was a resounding quiescent moment. All the world roused as lazy tendrils of a purplish haze on the eastern horizon broke through the seal set by the night. With more speed than she'd expected, it poured out red, orange-gold, and then amethyst rays. As the colors mixed, they turned the night sky into an early morning pale blue. It felt intimate. Though rational thought told her it was a sunrise and could not belong to anyone, she sensed Tyelco was permitting her to share in something profoundly his. Despite this, their proximity didn't feel awkward. Caught up in what must be done later and the vision before her, she hardly noticed there wasn't a single glare exchanged once that morning.

When Arielle sensed the others behind her stirring, she squeezed Tyelco's shoulder and set about preparing to move out.

It was a good thing the other girls were up and about early because Arielle was antsy about the ordeal. She did not feel tired. The others didn't get much shut eye, and because they had been awoken at the crack of dawn, Yumiko looked dazed and bleary-eyed, Niobe frequently yawned, and Abigail crankily resented being up.

Momentarily content that there were signs they'd be moving out soon, she quietly munched one of the cranberry granola bar Yumiko was passing around. At least, she was fairly confident it was granola.

Arielle had thought this fight through and had removed a long knife from the cache. Niobe needed a weapon, even with her "Force" powers. They currently lay at her side as she munched. All was quite visible from her wooden perch overhanging the platform. Yumiko was eating with Neko (who was licking sardines from her incisors), Tyelco was off eating a bowl of rice deftly with chopsticks (Arielle was quite envious to see that Yumiko only needed to demonstrate their use once, as she had dined at Chinese restaurants all her life and had yet to master the skill), and Niobe and Abigail sat within Arielle's ear-shot, chatting.

"I'm not used to running on fumes like this," Abigail explained to Niobe as she chomping her granola like a dog with peanut butter in her mouth.

"Think of it this way; you've just spent all night revising and this afternoon is the exam." Under all that stoic cultivation, Arielle could sense Niobe's smirk as she spoke.

"This isn't like that at all," Abigail retorted through a mouthful of crunchy oats and cranberries. "For one, I've never spent the night before an exam packing it all in. I _plan_ my study time. And, say I did spend all night studying; I'd know the answer or at least enough to bluff my way through. No, this isn't anything like an exam. We're attacking God-knows-what. It's one thing to just react when you must, but certainly is another to go barging in."

Niobe drained her cup of black tea. "Yes. They are very different," she agreed thoughtfully. "You know, I once read that bravery is not in the blind response to danger, but the conscientious entrance into it."

Arielle could hear that smirk again, and indulged in the expression herself. As Abigail stopped chewing (her face went blank as though processing a great deal of information), then seemed pensive as she compulsively twirled a ring on her finger. Niobe stood and walked across the platform to return her teacup to the bag. It lay below Arielle's perch.

"Do you always take your eavesdropping literally?" Niobe asked softly without glancing up.

Arielle reminded herself she really oughtn't be surprised that the jedi knew exactly where she was. "Were you always like this? Philosophical and messing with everyone?"

Niobe examined the branch overhead and managed to climb up next to Arielle with little difficulty even in her purple concert gown. "It," she said as she sat down, "is my place to ask questions. Answers are rarely the only reward in asking."

"Do you hear yourself?" Arielle placed a sheathed long knife on her own lap.

Niobe sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I do sound a bit elevated, no? It's not as though I set out to make anyone feel foolish; I sense possibilities everywhere. Always have, only now I am inclined to share them; infinite possibilities for what might happen because of opinion, thought, or action. Keeping in such knowledge is wasteful. The ends are never clear, but I guess no one ever really sees them, for nothing truly ends." Niobe leaned in towards Arielle, and she wondered if Niobe wasn't talking to herself.

"So, by your avoidance of the answer, I take it you weren't always like this."

"That hardly matters now." Niobe stretched out her back and yawned. "Oh!" her back popped. "Back home, when I felt others were straying in thought, in deeds, from what was at hand questions always occurred to me, but I never felt comfortable asking and asking. Here, everything speaks to me." She smiled her enigmatic grin and stroked the bark beneath her fingers. "This tree speaks; you speak without saying words. Even the wind whispers. It is no longer strange for me to prod others to find for themselves what the world tells me in light and waves and song."

Arielle wasn't sure if she understood any of that.

"I suppose, the real question," Niobe turned to Arielle, and the jedi's violet eyes ripped and tore and it was impossible to tell if that voice came from Niobe's mouth or from within Arielle's own head, "is if you were always like this."

The heavy beat of her heart knocked a breath from Arielle's mouth. Momentarily, she felt the chill in the early morning air, the dreary ache of exhaustion in her limbs, and was forced to swallow down a sudden wave of guilt ebbing up for Tyelco's friends. The sensations were gone as surreptitiously as they came. She was as she'd been for hours before; comfortable. She wasn't really sleepy or hungry or cold. Too comfortable.

"We're all different."

"It's our reformation. I suspect our change was not merely physical. Abigail and Yumiko have yet to comprehend the psychological effects these powers seem to be impressing upon us. Then again, their powers are more physical, while ours appear to be directly connected to our psyche. Our minds. It is possible they were not affected at all save for their powers, but (and I would have you agree with me), I do not think they are prepared to cope with this news. At least, not yet."

Arielle didn't know if _she_ was prepared to cope with it. Sure, she was stable now, but there were always catches to these things. There was the possibility the lack of sleep or food or simply the mental exertion necessary to maintain her "powers" might become too much for her to handle, slowly driving her out of her mind. Obviously, her mind wasn't originally designed to propel her through trees and hit everything she aimed at. Yes, there had been the anxiety and adrenaline to keep her going, but if that was all there was to it, she should have crashed by now.

"But then, what does it really matter?" Niobe was spacing off again. "We are still whole, I find my company pleasant, and I cannot help but feel I am still me. So was the other woman I was. We are two in one . . ."

"Okay, right, I get it. We're ourselves; at least until we all go crazy."

Niobe went quiet. There should have been some form of vehement denial or outright dismissal from the jedi. Now Arielle was worried.

Below them, Yumiko, with Neko on her shoulder, skipped over to Tyelco. He was finishing his rice.

"There is something about this place; my heart misgives. Perhaps our minds have altered as to compensate for the changes in our bodies, and if that is the case, we have no need to fear. Yet I feel some warning against this transition. Was it complete? If I am a Jedi, do I possess the abilities of a knight or master? Can I stretch them? Do I have limits?" Niobe's voice turned darker. "Do I have the same faults? What is the danger?"

Arielle wanted to snort at the notion of Niobe becoming some Dark Jedi, but the other was dead serious, and given the gravity of the question, scoffing wouldn't have been appropriate.

"Well, I'm not Neo, but I'm probably not supposed to be either. Yumiko's keen; she called me Trinity earlier."

"Keen, yes." She didn't sound convinced.

Yumiko had taken Pointy Ear's empty bowl, but was now forcing poor Neko on him. Arielle doubted he cared much for cats, if she were to judge his opinion of them from his sneer. He looked as though the notion of petting a cat were quite scandalous.

"We've got to figure out what's going on and our best chance of that is talking to these guys, so," Arielle passed Niobe the long knife. "Just in case."

With a nod, Niobe accepted the long knife and dropped to the platform.

Poor Tyelco let out a shout of indignation as Neko batted at the shifting, sparkly sheen of light reflected off his shimmering, golden locks. Arielle snorted as the cat made quick work of his meticulously ordered hair. It only required seconds, but when Yumiko had managed to recapture her cat, his tresses were completely mussed. Tyelco glared at Neko with murder in his eyes, his fingers twitching for his arrows.

"Mew?" said Niko.

Instead of shooting the feigningly innocent Neko, Tyelco stormed away. He elegantly swung himself up and onto Arielle's perch; his handsome face was set in a pout, his hair was tousled.

Arielle desperately tried not to crack up laughing. "You're kinda sexy with bed hair, you know that?"

He detected her sarcasm, Arielle just knew it. _Aristocrats must have some kind of internal sarcasm detector._

Startling and barely snatching the green, plastic hairbrush midair before it soundly met the back of his head, Tyelco frantically sought the source of the projectile.

"Hairbrush, _dijobu!_" Yumiko gave him a thumbs-up.

Poor, poor, confused Tyelco didn't quite know what to make of any of it. He did only what he could resign to do; brush and re-braid his hair. Arielle watched in fascination as he unbound the knot. Quickly, and without static, he brushed it out until it was a perfect, straight sheen and dexterously braided it back. She was so envious she felt sick and green. Green with envy. Green like the Grinch. She felt like stealing something.

"I hate you. Ever read _The Rape of the Lock_? You are Belinda, vain maid, and I am a Sylph with scissors."

Again, he scowled, detecting sarcasm, but complete incapable of doling it back.

From below, Niobe called, "Let us away."

Touching his shoulder, Arielle inclined her head so that Tyelco would follow her. Then she dropped down beside Niobe.

"About time too. Everyone got their gear?" Arielle looked around assessing everyone's state of preparation. Niobe had her knife strapped around her waist. That woman was going to be deadly. Abigail stood rubbing her hands together, her wand in the middle as though it would spark a fire. The motion producing a loud, repetitive clicking sound as the wood struck her ring over and over again. Yumiko was slipping a quiver over her bag. As Yumiko tightened the strap, Neko leapt and took up her post on her mistress' shoulder.

Arielle didn't want the cat anywhere near the fight. "No Neko. _Dijobu_? Cats no good in fights. Leave her here," Arielle pointed to the deck. "Okay?"

Yumiko blinked, and shook her head in shocked dejection, clinging to Neko's tail.

"Niobe, could you make her see reason?" Arielle asked.

Obliging, Niobe motioned for Yumiko to look into her eyes and staring ensued. The argument must have been intense, as it lasted far longer than it should. When Niobe finally blinked, she declared, "Yumiko fears to leave Neko on her own. She promises to keep the cat safe and will not be impeded by her presence."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"By no means. Shall we be off?"

Abigail began to slink toward the ladder. "Yes, let's."

There were never walls around when Arielle needed a solid surface to bang her head against. Did no one else realize they were about to fight, possibly, hundreds of spiders and unspeakably monstrous _urk_? _Intentionally_?

Arielle turned to Tyelco. He too looked vexed. His distaste for Neko was caught in the faint crevices at the corner of his mouth. "It looks like we've finally found something we agree on, _non_?"

In an oh-so-predictably Tyleco-en manner, the _edhel_ faintly creased his eyebrows as if questioning whether or not this gambit would end with them unconscious and wrapped up in a silken shroud just before being ensanguined. Arielle set off after the other girls. "I'm only saying this aloud because you can't understand me. I'm really glad you're here, Ty."

_

* * *

_

_dijobu_ (Japanese, J) "okay"

non (French, Fr.) "no?"


	15. Running in Circles

**Asside:** I make no pretense about being an expert in Sindarin. I'm not. Please be kind to my errors, and if you can correct them, please comment.

Is anyone reading this, really? When I keep posting but don't receive reviews it's like talking to a wall. Not to mention that my ego is slightly wounded that stories posted as a single block of text without linebreaks gets reviews on this site, but I haven't any. At this point a "you suck" would be preferable to nothing . . .

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 14

"**Running in Circles"**

* * *

Arielle had a plan. The operative word being '_had'_. 

The cave was further North, and a ways from the river; deeper into the forest and somewhat hidden by some shrubs and boulders. Tyelco had told Niobe he was certain there were eight of his companions trapped in the cave, but had no idea if more _edhel_ had been captured or how many might be dead by now, though she found herself assuming none were. Arielle's only glimmer of hope was that there couldn't be many spiders left to feed on them, although, she didn't know what to make of the _urk_. She would have liked to ask him what those things ate, but decided getting Niobe to moderate was too much of a hassle.

For some time early on in the venture, Arielle ran above with Tyelco, occasionally experiencing the sensation that she was being followed; every so often, she saw a shadow move, wherein this morose forest there was no wind. Momentarily, she was joined by Neko which put her at ease.

Jogging alongside the flying bicycle, Arielle explained what she had in mind to the two English speakers. It consisted of a lot of killing while she, Tyelco, and Abigail did what they could to drag or levitate the remaining _edhel_ out. Of course, the contrary Abigail disagreed with this, as she wasn't secure in her spell casting abilities and insisted they had no secure location to put the captives once they were removed.

The treacherous Niobe agreed. She felt that much of the attack would have to be improvised to suit the terrain. At least Niobe was in concurrence with Arielle's attack configuration; she and the jedi in front for short range attacks, Yumiko and Abigail in the middle for long range, and Tyelco covering their rear as he seemed adept at fighting both near and far.

This still left the problem of eight possibly unconscious _edhel_ to rescue. No one had any idea if Yumiko had the power to wake them all; it was unlikely, considering their last spur of the moment escape. Even if she did manage to get the poor captives alert, they would be a band of loopy, uncoordinated baggage wobbling around in the middle of a very nasty fight.

Any angle Arielle looked at it from they were hopelessly doomed to fail this mission. Not that she'd let that stop her from trying, but she felt everyone ought to know.

"Does anyone have any idea of how we might get them out of the cave?" Arielle put forth. Their time was running out, and they weren't far from where she, Yumiko, and Tyelco had emerged only the day before. The area was recognizable by the lack of vegetation and smoggy gloominess.

"I'm afraid I am fresh out of ideas," Niobe said apologetically.

"It might be easier to get them out if there were a diversion," Abigail pondered aloud, "except, we don't know how large this cave is, or where the spiders are, and there aren't enough of us to carry everyone out at once, even if all five of us were to go at it which isn't plausible due to the spider count."

Arielle decided she hated Abigail's logic.

Out of nowhere, Niobe added, "I suppose now is not a good time to suggest that the _urk_ are not harmed?"

Arielle ground her jog to a complete halt, and for a few moments, Niobe kept peddling along.

"Stop."

The overloaded bike wobbled and then landed.

"Niobe, if the next words from your mouth aren't 'so I can maim and torture them later,' I will put you down for loosing your Goddamn mind," Arielle threatened.

"Those monsters, Niobe?" Abigail said, surprised.

Niobe affirmed this by nodding her head as Yumiko dismounted off the back and Tyelco dropped down to join the party.

Arielle gesticulated wildly. "Did you not notice that one of them tried to kill you last night? That they tried to kill _all of us_? Are we supposed to get cuddly with the spiders and the rest of the carnivorous fauna running loose around here?"

Niobe held up her hand in difference. "I realize that you did what you must in self-defense. You were attacked; your friends were. And I agree that the spiders are wholly of darkness and not to be reasoned with. Nonetheless, the _urk_ I encountered was not like them. He was. . .minimally intelligent, mostly instinctual. But he was not _wholly _dark. If I could contact the light within him—"

Arielle cringed and began shouting. "Do you even know what you're saying?! Contacting his _light_, that he's minimally, MIN-I-MAL-LY, intelligent and we're supposed to let these things run loose?"

"Calm yourself." Niobe sternly chided, her violet eyes lit. "I would not kill Tyelco, not if he were shooting at me, without first offering a peaceful resolution."

"Those things aren't like Tyelco. They're not human!" Arielle shouted back.

Niobe's eyes narrowed. "Neither is Tyelco. Had you and Yumiko not rescued him, had he felt the slightest threat, he would have dispatched you, or at least made the attempt."

Arielle remembered the way he'd nearly shot Yumiko, and doubt began to erode her argument.

A finger ever so lightly touched her shoulder. Tyelco must have heard his name being thrown around and obviously was concerned about the argument. His head tilted, and he eyed both Niobe and Arielle unblinkingly, but he waited for his answer not from the one who could speak with him directly, but from Arielle. "He was cornered and it was for _show_."

Niobe raised her chin. "Do not be so certain. Before I spoke with him last night, I do not think we rated much higher than the spiders."

Of course, Arielle knew this had to be an exaggeration.

"Please, Arielle." Niobe pleaded, doing a very convincing impression of a kind, understanding older sister. "You must allow me to test the boundaries of my powers. You must trust me."

Arielle pursed her lips, and shifted her feet in agitation, until finally relenting. "Fine. Do your Jedi thing, but I swear if they start going after—"

"In such an instance, I will not hesitate," Niobe assured. "Defense and rescues are my priorities."

"I cannot believe," Abigail interjected, "that you're both agreeing to let those things run amok without consulting the rest of us!"

"What are you gonna do about it?" Arielle was tempted to tag "little girl" to the end of that question, but wisely refrained.

"I," Abigail pressed one hand against her chest. As though they'd forget to whom she referred. "wish you would both stop pretending this is your group to run and include all of our opinions in your little decisions."

Yumiko yawned and sprawled herself across the ground as if to take a nap.

"We don't, because yours suck." Arielle informed her.

"Arielle!" Niobe snapped.

Abigail set her shoulders back. "They do not. For one, we shouldn't even be going in the cave."

Arielle closed her eyes. "Because that would made so much sense. . ."

"It does!" Abigail crossed her arms and turned to Niobe. "You said that the spiders were acting funny."

Niobe was listening attentively, and Arielle wanted to hit the Jedi upside her head. "That was what Tyelco told me, yes."

"And these _urk_ things, they don't normally hang out with the spiders? And they're intelligent?" Abigail prodded.

Niobe raised her head as if starting to catch onto Abigail's thread, much to Arielle's chagrin. "Correct."

"Then they must know that the _edhel_ would eventually figure out something was going wrong, and they must have known the _edhel _would eventually come looking for them when word got out, and when it did, do you really think these things would hole themselves up in a cave? Oh no, the attacks were organized. Niobe, when we were discussing Tyelco's capture, you said his platform was an outpost? A military one?"

"Yes." Niobe confirmed.

Arielle was horrified that this was so damn logical.

"A military post isn't a place for opportunistic attacks. So, unless these things are all stark raving mad, they wouldn't have gone at a place where the whole army will know their soldiers have gone missing within a matter of days. They just wouldn't, not unless they had an exit, and not without what they came for in the first place. And since they've encountered us, who know where they are and what they're up to and since we're liable to _tell_ and put up a nasty fight, I doubt they stuck around last night." Abigail was rocking on her heels, thoroughly pleased with herself. It was sickening. "Come to think of it, that's probably why they passed by our camp last night."

"And you didn't mention this earlier because. . .?" Arielle prompted.

"Well, no one was asking me, and you've been grouchy and unreasonably argumentative all morning—"

"Have not!" Arielle shouted back.

"Enough!" Niobe silenced everyone. "I will explain this to Tyelco and then we must get to the cave, immediately, to see for ourselves."

No one argued this point. Niobe must have been brief and excluded her plan to reason with the monsters, in conversing with Tyelco because they were off shortly.

"Tyelco told me that the _urk_, if they've left the cave, could not have gone far. They hate the sunlight and would have found cover at daybreak. They would be especially slow if weighted down with captives."

"Hate sunlight? Like vampires?" Arielle inquired, jogging alongside the bike. "And these are the things you want to do peace talks with?"

Niobe said nothing, but her jaw was set firmly in place.

It was a few minutes later when Tyelco dropped from above into their path, stopping them again. He locked eyes with Niobe and began speaking again.

"Mmm." Niobe said.

"What does that mean?" Abigail asked.

"It means that Tyelco has noticed that the area of forest before the cave entrance is laced in spider silk. Apparently, it acts as a tripwire for the spiders in the cave. They will undoubtedly know of our approach."

"Can he see the entrance from here?" Arielle asked.

Niobe conferred. "Yes."

Arielle thought for a moment. "Is there a bunch around the mouth?"

"He says there are."

Arielle frowned. "Yesterday there weren't any. Not at the mouth, not in the forest." An idea struck her. "They weren't trying to capture anything outside. It was trap, but one to keep us in. They didn't want anyone outside to know they were in there. . ." then it clicked. "and now that we know where they were, they'd like us to waste our time trying to get back in, but Abby's probably right. There won't be a damn thing in there. Niobe, ask Ty to get a good look around here. A big troupe like that must have left some tracks."

Niobe nodded approvingly, and Abigail was, in Arielle's opinion, gloating with her upbeat skipping about. "You're staying here. I'll go with him."

No one seemed to care. Yumiko was yawning again and rubbing Neko's tummy lazily, as if the whole adventure were quite boring. Arielle supposed that if you couldn't understand anything anyone said, this trip would be.

"Arielle," Niobe called, and motioned her over. "Tyelco will sweep the surrounding area, but in light of our discoveries, he suspects the _urk_ are heading in the direction of where you ran into us last night. With his post down, there is a blind spot in the border watch for them exit through."

Arielle wanted to smack herself. It was so very obvious now why a bunch of kidnapping _urk_ and spiders would take out a _border guard post_. So that no one was watching the stupid border, of course!

"_Merde_. We're all idiots. Lead on, Ty."

Tyelco didn't need any more encouragement. Fortunately, it didn't take them long to locate the trail left by the band of retreating _urk_. With his excellent senses and tracking skills, he was able to determine that there were eight _urk_, a band of spiders, and that they were leaving with items (or people) wrapped in cocoons from the footprints and bits of solid silk snagged off the cocoons on twigs.

They set off in all haste east, following the trail. There was no way to know how far the creatures may have made it in the night. Arielle was fairly certain, as everyone else, that they'd made it out of Eryn Leasgalen by now, especially if that party last night had been a division of the one exiting the forest. At least they could move faster than those things, and with everyone fired up for being on the right track, they were also motivated. Still, to Arielle it felt like a wild goose chase. Especially since they were going in circles. Or triangles, as it were.

They reached the river around noon. Before they could cross, (they'd decided to use the flying bike as a ferry) Tyelco stopped and reexamined the tracks.

"He says something happened here. A scuffle amid the group. It appears the spiders were unwilling to cross—" Niobe stopped as Tyelco bolted mid-explanation, back up into the woods, shouting incomprehensibly aloud.

"Stay with them!" Arielle shouted to Niobe, pointing at the other girls and hurrying after him. They were darting through the trees a bit, and Arielle could see the silken line going back the way they'd come. Again. Just as she was starting to fear their trip would lead nowhere, Tyelco dropped out of the canopy like an anchor through floorboards.

There was no sound here. Half way down her freefall, Arielle saw what was so very, very wrong. She felt ill; physically ill. Four cocoons lay shredded, and the necks of corpses sticking out of them were riddled with puncture wounds. Their faces crowned with blond hair so very much like Tyelco's were impassive, paralyzed, and their eyes were closed. They were all dead.

Tyelco knelt beside one, and drew the limp form closer, brushing the hair away from the wan face, murmuring to himself. At first, his face displayed unmasked disbelief. Then he touched the blood. He gazed upon the others and knew. He doubled over and cried out once as though he'd been punched squarely in the stomach. He stayed that way, silently agonizing, hiding his face from Arielle.

She wanted to cry. She really did. Heat was rising up in her face, and with it came all her frustration and anger, but she didn't. In all her mild, Cedar Brookian life, there was no comparison. She couldn't know what it was like; how it felt to lose so many friends all at once. But she knew Tyelco, and seeing her very proud, very arrogant friend in so much pain, so openly in pain, _hurt_.

Arielle's only way of dealing with this kind of pain was to give it right back again. Somebody, those _urk_ and those so-called spider-creepies, were going to pay. They'd pay for the pain, for the bodies, for putting her in a position where she couldn't rectify the wrong, and for playing her out for a hapless fool. Last night they'd been so close to the monsters without any way of knowing the things were stopping by as they retreated. They'd done nothing for a whole evening, all the while having thought it was for the best. For listening to that utter sap of a Jedi, Niobe instead of following her own instinct to act immediately.

It was her fault from the start for not realizing there were more cocoons back in the cave. Back when these people were alive. They could have been saved; a day ago they'd been alive; she'd messed up.

For a moment her vision went black, covered by a vengeful daydream involving a blowtorch and gasoline. A lot of gasoline. She was pulled from her daydream as Tyelco's powerful grip encompassed her bicep, leaning into her, helping them both to stand again. Arielle hadn't noticed she was on her knees. If ever a shadow had fallen over anyone's face, it was Tyelco's at this moment. His once temperately aloof face was a combination of anger and grief, and Arielle couldn't say hers would have looked any prettier. Truthfully, she was nearly as angry over those things causing him pain as she was that they'd ruined the casual perfection which had been the face she knew.

"_Od i iâ o nûra,__eiden buio o dos nef-nin." _

Sometimes, the words just didn't matter. From his beseeching tone and the glossy, mad fury in his eyes, Arielle could tell what he wanted. He was looking for a fight. Arielle was itching to join in.

Their return to the river was indecorous.

"Get up." Arielle barked as she slid out from the cover of tree to find the three girls sitting in a circle at the river's edge.

Niobe, to Arielle complete irritation, was spot on as usual and stood. "What has happened?"

"We're going over the river. ABBY!"

The blonde, who'd barely acknowledged Arielle's return, was startled by this curt address. Her limbs reacted as if she'd been burned and sent sand flying.

Tersely, Arielle continued to Abigail's bewilderment. "Get you lot over the river."

Abigail blinked, "What's he off to. . ." It looked as though Tyelco was swimming the river.

"NOW!"

Abigail hopped to. Arielle ignored Yumiko's bewildered face as Niobe approached. "Tell me what has happened."

"Why don't you just read my mind and figure it out?"

Niobe didn't look amused, but again softly this time, asked, "What has happened?"

"I'll tell you what; we're now looking for four _edhel_, got it? _Four_." Arielle turned away from Niobe to bark at Abigail again, but she had Yumiko perched on the back spokes with Neko and was ready to go.

"Arielle," Niobe said cautiously, "You are understandably upset. However, you must try to calm—"

"Shove that fake Jedi bullshi—"

Niobe lowered her tone warningly. "This is not the time for rash—"

Arielle shouted back, "You don't know what I—"

"DO NOT PRESUME WHAT I KNOW!"

Arielle blinked. She didn't know the Jedi had it in her to yell. Apparently, neither did the Jedi, judging by the wide-eyed way she now examined the ground.

From the background, Arielle heard Abigail's voice say, "Look there Yumiko, I think we'd better help Tyelco cross the river now. Kiss and make-up, you two."

Arielle decided there were no beings on any planet of any race more irritating than blondes. She really hoped it wasn't infectious. Like syphilis.

"I'm sorry," Niobe said softly. "I have no intension of belittling your grief."

"My grief? _Mine?_ HIM—" Arielle pointed to the river, but found herself choked up, and, to her own embarrassment, on the verge of tears.

"Then we must think to the safety of those whose lives depend on us." Niobe had the grace not to address Arielle's distress. "Do not make the mistake of assuming I see this as a game. I am not afraid of danger, but receive no thrill from it and will not do anything rash."

Arielle, who'd so far seen Niobe as her own age, felt a kind of vertigo as the woman's violet aged decades in a second. With a blink, it was gone.

"As far as we know, the ones we seek have kept their prisoners alive." Niobe started to the river. "But for how long, we cannot be sure. Send Abigail back after you cross. We will catch up to you and Tyelco later. Time is running out."

Arielle nodded and leaped into the air, crossing the river without a second thought. Sure enough, on the bank Yumiko was hopping off the bike.

"Abby, Niobe, now." Arielle ordered, pointing back to where Niobe stood alone.

Abigail rolled her eyes while obliging the command. "Don't you run off and leave Yumiko on her own. Tyelco's off sniffing leaves that way."

Yumiko pounced from behind, gripping Arielle around the waist in a hug while Arielle tried to escape without overtly shoving the girl. "No, damnit, no, I don't need a hug." The miko's grip was like steel, and there was no escaping it. Arielle sighed. When she felt miserable, gratuitous displays of affection always made her feel worse. By the time she managed to dislodge Yumkio, Niobe and Abigail were pulling up. Arielle ran for it.

Finding Tyelco took a little effort, as he was fast when running (and gee, they'd been doing a lot of running lately), but still very quiet. Fortunately, he was not sniffing leaves when she found him; he was examining an area which had obviously been trampled recently. The woods here were getting darker and darker. Perfect for nasty creatures who hate sunlight. He greeted her with an expectant expression. Arielle assumed it was because she'd come alone. Best be reassuring.

"They're on their way."

Either he understood or didn't care because he leapt up into the branches overhead, following the trail laid out below cautiously. Arielle followed his lead. After all, this wasn't really _her_ revenge, was it? And as they walked in the eerie silence of Eryn Leasgalen, Arielle found it easier to calm down a bit. Of course, corpses kept popping up in her head; both the dead elves and the disturbing thought of her friends ending up like them. It was nonsense as the other three, along with herself, were already dead. Sort of. Now she was curious as to how the other three died. Morbid thoughts of how they might have kicked it tried to sneak into her head. She was surprised to find that even a dead Abigail was discomforting.

Niobe had been right. Real bravery wasn't just responding to an attack. It was walking in to one even knowing what the consequences might be.

Half an hour latter, she heard the squeaking and clicking of bicycle chains and gears. Tyelco dropped down to chat with Niobe, and Niobe relayed his message to the group.

"We are to keep at a distance, due to the noise."

Abigail huffed. "You could just ask me to jinx it."

Niobe smiled. "My apologies for underestimating you again. By all means."

Abigail smartly removed her wand from her large skirt pocket, leaned over and tapped on the metal. _"Silencio."_

"You'll probably want to hang back anyway; we'll scout and regroup" Arielle said.

For a moment it looked as though Niobe thought this a bad idea, glancing from Tyelco to Arielle, but nodded hesitantly, "Alright. Just promise you'll come back and set a battle plan. Even if you place us on the sidelines to keep them from escaping, five to eight is better odd than one to four, understand?"

"So you're not gonna be Jedi mind speaking with the monsters for their phone numbers?"

Niobe sighed. "If you judge that they are in immediate danger, their lives must take precedence, but please, _please,_ try to give me a chance. I have to know."

"_Have_ to?" Arielle persisted, but knew Niobe was liable to win.

But then Abigail had to pipe in again. "You know, some of us have _consciences_ about killing things."

"Abi—" Niobe warned exasperatedly.

"Abby, I swear, I am this far," Arielle demonstrated with her fingers. "This far from killing _you_."

"Tosh." Abigail snorted.

Arielle took a step forward, and was pulled back by Tyelco grabbing the back of her jacket and dragging her after him.

"She'll drive me nuts before the end of this, Ty. My sanity is already leaving me. Mutant spiders, and murders, and kidnappings. I'm from _Iowa_. I thought I was sick of corn, but I'd prefer it to this!" Arielle whined in distress as she was feeling a distinct lack of control. It was kind of nice knowing he couldn't understand a single word from her mouth. "Acres and acres of corn. And cows, ugh, the smells, gag me! But I lived in a city; a nice little college town with a low crime rate where the worst thing that happened was. . .er. . .well, I suppose that would be me getting shot, but other than that. . .Maybe it's just the rose-colored-glasses looking back, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it was."

Arielle shut her mouth, remembering they were tracking evil monsters. Under the circumstances, she should be quiet despite her morose mood and that Tyelco had made no attempt to silence her.

There appeared to be a few attempts on the part of the monsters to throw off any pursuers, such as leaves and twigs scattered over the tracks. However, it gave them away more than it ever threw Tyelco off. He was proficient, leaving Arielle to follow in his wake as they navigated the beams overhead. The canopy was getting thicker, and therefore darker. Below them, the ground was becoming steep. Obviously, if these things had to avoid sunlight, this was prime area to hide out in. As time passed, the sun, though out of sight in the lower canopy, lowered and compounded the darkness. Tyelco quickened their pace; with Niobe tracking them from behind, they didn't need to worry much about losing the stragglers altogether.

Just as Arielle began to worry they'd never catch up before nightfall and their chase would go on all night and into the next day, Tyelco motioned for her to follow him in a direction leading away from the trail. She suspected he had knowledge of the area's layout (as he guarded it and it was his home) and this divergence was due to a hunch about where these _urks_ had run off to hide.

Whatever the case, they found the _urks_.

One side of the hill was a weather beaten structure from bygone years now collapsed in on itself, splintered by the enormous roots of trees, and ultimately creating a labyrinth of crevices suitable for anything temporarily taking shelter. It was obvious the _urks_ were home. Arielle could smell and hear them without any effort.

The _urk_s sure had found themselves a nice place to avoid the sun. They were also in a prime position for an ambush; they'd all set up in a cave at the end of a deep fissure. Obviously, the _urks_ must have been aware of this, and a "scout" was situated on top of the hill. Not that it could see or hear the distant and silent Arielle and Tyelco. Especially not with its back turned and sleeping.

Tyelco flared his nostrils. Arielle knew how he felt; it was going to be so easy it was disgusting for all the trouble the things had caused.

Vengeance was at hand.

* * *

_Merde_ (French, Fr.): Shit 

"_Od i iâ o nûra,__eiden buio o dos nef-nin." _(Sindarin, S) (literally, as best I can manage Sindarin): From the abyss of my sadness, I repose (put all hope in) allegiance of you on this side mine (what I'd like it to mean to all of you) "From the abyss of my despair, I ask you to seek vengeance at my side."

_edhel _(S): elf

_urk _(S): orc; stupid, ugly, immoral, and violent bipedal creatures created by Morgoth; the perverse, involuntary corruption of immortal elves.


	16. The Price for Revenge

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 15

"**The Price for Revenge"**

* * *

Tyelco had surveyed the area from above. Arielle caught him before he could move in closer to the _urk_ camped down in the ravine. Knowing what they had to work with now, they needed to find their reinforcements and quick, before the _urks_ left. She suspected Tyelco's eagerness to fight and reluctance to leave was because of Niobe. The jedi had never fully renounced her intention to play ET with the _urks_.

"You have found them," Niobe stated just before the parities reunited. The three women hopped off the bike, and Abigail hid the cumbersome contraption under a bush, correctly assuming it was no longer needed.

"Voices down," Arielle whispered softly. "Just in case. They're up over a hill in that direction." Arielle pointed. "There's a heap of rocks, and the _urk_ are holed up in one of the ravines at the moment; only one way out of it. If we hurry, we can ambush them before they make off with the _edhel_."

"I assume you wish to attack from above, on the ravine edges."

"Yep. Safest for us."

"Mmm." Niobe pressed his lips together, not entirely approving.

"Please tell me you're not contemplating anything suicidal."

"I thought we had agreed I should at least make contact."

"Yeah, well, I'd hoped the past three hours had changed your mind." Arielle's voice rose, in spite of the danger.

"They did not."

"Well," Arielle was a bit at a loss, stumbling over words, and then quieted. "Fine. If Tyelco can't convince you edgewise and you promise you won't do anything stupid, I won't stop you."

Niobe smiled, all too pleased with herself.

"But the cocoons are priority one, okay?"

Niobe nodded solemnly. "Those who cannot help themselves naturally take precedence over me."

"Don't make me regret it." Arielle turned on the approaching Abigail. "You hear that Abby?"

"Save the cocoons. Right. Who's on which side of the ravine?" Abigail was once again rubbing her wand between her hands, the whirling wood making a _click, click, clicking_ against her ring.

"Me and Yumiko on the far side; you, Ty, and Niobe (who's playing mediator down front) on the near," Arielle proposed. "Niobe, you wouldn't mind running that by Ty, would you?"

"Not at all." Niobe turned to Tyelco who had actually been shifting his feet with impatience.

After a moment, Niobe said, "He does not agree; he will go up top and kill the scout, if it remains. From above in the back, he will easily be able to shoot, so long as the _urks_ remain in the ravine. I should be able contain them if I do not successfully find their light. In such a instance you, Arielle, will be on the far ridge, and Abigail and Yumiko shall be on the other. I must concede that this would be the prudent attack plan."

Arielle didn't like the idea of Yumiko and Abigail fighting without adult supervision, but then again, the risk was minimal for them. Everyone except Niobe would be out of the general mayhem.

"Of course, with me revealing myself, the element of surprise will be lost and there is always the danger of the _urk_ killing the unconscious _edhel_," Niobe said. "Therefore I urge all of you to do exactly as Arielle has said; worry about them, not me." She looked pointedly at Yumiko.

"_Hai!"_ Yumkio confirmed with a thumbs-up. Neko mewed.

* * *

_Earlier that morning. . ._

* * *

Yumiko didn't know when the last time she'd been stuck in one spot for so long was.

Yesterday had been fraught with adventure and new friends; meeting Tyelco, then Arielle, then Neko, and Niobe and Abigail. Neko was fast on her way to becoming her new best friend. They'd frolicked and slept in the tree tops, played with Tyelco's hair, and chatted about the virtues of sleep and lazy mornings with Niobe. At least the morning had started off well enough. She'd expected that the rest of the day would be as wonderfully eventful as the last. Niobe had told her that they would be hunting down those terrible spiders and rescuing Tyelco's friends. It would be very dangerous, but Yumiko told her she was not afraid of the spiders, nor the evil _obake_ which kept the other silk sacks, and was a champion archer. She was looking forward to the adventure, but so far they had not engaged in battle.

Oh yes, Abigail's magical flying bike was positively remarkable for the first five minutes. Yumiko had put her finger lightly on the tread and felt the way the rubber tire spun about all on its own.

Then Neko started getting antsy; clawing about on her shoulders, mewing to be let down, and, no, she did not need any more petting or scratching or snuggles at the moment. The cat had jumped down and run alongside the bike. It was a fairly good solution, and when Neko was tired, she could climb back onto the bike. For Yumiko, it'd been fun to watch her leap and claw and scramble about overhead in the trees with Arielle, then run down beside the bike and up again.

But even this was not wholly interesting, so she then listened to Niobe and Abigail tell stories. Like Yumiko, they'd become bored and were interested in each other's lives back on Earth as they knew it. Abigail insisted that nothing much remarkable happened in Wellington. Niobe requested that Abigail tell about the most remarkable thing to ever happen to her in Wellington. This was the story Abigail told.

One beautiful December day (for December in New Zealand is the middle of the summer and quite beautiful), Abigail had gone across town to stay with her Aunt and Uncle. She loved visiting them, for Abigail's mom and dad did not believe in owning TVs or reading too many fairy stories, nor eating any sweets and her Aunt and Uncle had plenty of all three. It was there she'd discovered the delights of Harry Potter and would sneak books off the shelves (though she knew perfectly well she needn't sneak them, as her aunt and uncle allowed her to do as she pleased) and bike down the lane to the outskirts and in a lovely sheep pasture, would climb up a rock face to a pasture up top. There, convinced she was safe, Abigail had read.

The last day of this particularly splendid week, her aunt and uncle had taken her to a parade. Abigail, being nine years old, didn't really know what all the fuss was about for it was not a Christmas parade, but there were thousands and thousands of people lining the streets of the city. Her uncle had let her sit on his shoulders (for even then she was tiny for her age) and watch the people go by in costumes, playing drums, dancing, waving from convertibles, and generally soaking up the festive atmosphere. After the last had gone by, her uncle had set her down.

Now, she hadn't wandered off, but as it happens in large crowds she'd momentarily gotten separated from her uncle. Being a sensible girl, she'd gone over to a short young man wearing a costume (for she assumed he'd be a part of the parade staff), and pronounced she was lost. The very nice young man probably had nothing to do with the parade staff, but in typical Kiwi spirit, safely returned her to her aunt and uncle. As a parting gift, he'd given her a ring, the very same one she wore now (she counted it a lucky ring).

Later that night when recounting the story at the dinner table, her uncle had asked to see the ring. Abigail had obliged. Her uncle held it for no more than a moment before exclaiming that it might actually be valuable. The very next morning, he and Abigail went to the appraiser's, whom her uncle was good friends with. As it turned out, the ring given away to nine-year-old Abigail was actually a gold ring coated in platinum, illegally engraved on the inside. Its value on the black market was nearly $8,000 New Zealand Dollars. She'd never told her parents about it; they thought it was a dull silver ring, for it was perfectly plain in every other aspect and had no qualm with it as such.

Niobe had laughed, and Yumiko smiled broadly, thinking it a handsome story. After it was over, Arielle dropped down from the branches overhead and began conversing with the other girls over battle plans and other tactical matters. Yumiko nearly interrupted to demand another story or request songs, except just then they stopped, made a slight adjustment in their direction, and continued on.

It was tedious, and Yumiko was getting tired of sitting still for so long on the bike. At least conversation started up again, and she was thoroughly relived by that.

"Any more ideas on how we ended up here?" Abigail asked Niobe after presenting the rhetorical question of who exactly put Arielle in charge and answered this, her own question, with 'no one.'

"None." Niobe sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm afraid the merger of out two groups and my discussions with Tyelco have only lead to more questions. There is no indication that beings such as us have ever fallen into this world."

"I'll be honest with you, Niobe. I feel the strangest sensation; all of this is familiar, like something I've forgotten and the memory is only just beyond my recollection. Or a dream after you've woken and everything's haze and illogical pieces."

"Pieces?" Niobe questioned.

"Well," Abigail hesitated. "This isn't going to make much sense, but I'll try to explain. You see, I use a particular mnemonic device to remember all the books I've ever read, movies I've ever seen, music I've heard, artwork or any other media as I have a photographic memory. It lets me store everything away in my head."

Yumiko thought this was the most fascinating thing she'd heard all day. To think, one could take a picture of anything, at any moment, and store it away like a bin of rice, or potatoes in the pantry.

"In my head, I have a three dimensional map of the world, and in every major city there is a library. I store each book in a library according to the origin of its author, or that work's primary home. That way, I only need to know the ethnicity, name, or even region a media is from in order to recall it, or I can usually generalize and find what I need on any given topic."

"I follow," Niobe confirmed.

"Ever since this morning I've been getting the most irritating and conflicting signals; some from Queenstown, some from the university in Wellington. Then there are those from _Toronto,_ Canada. I have the vaguest feelings from the western US, but nothing which rings a bell, but worst of all is England."

"England?" Niobe question.

"Everywhere in England! I suppose it mostly focuses around Oxford and London, but still. It's completely baffling; doesn't make any coherent sense and I've been trying to examine those more, but something's blocking my way around."

"What do you mean?" Niobe asked as her voice lowered.

"I mean, I go into the Oxford library and try to snoop around, but I get the feeling stuff is missing. Gone. You see, I order my books in a certain way so that they're all neat and pressed against one another, but I find there are gaps between books. Sort of like someone pulling one out to leaf through, and setting then it on the brown shelf, only there aren't any brown shelves in my libraries. At any rate, books have been moved or are gone." Abigail got quiet. "You don't think, well, someone like you couldn't go stealing books from my head, could you?"

"I don't know," Niobe answered with a distinct note of worry on her voice. "There is much we don't know about our powers, or what may have brought us here. But it disturbs me, Abby."

Yumiko drew Neko closer, much to the cat's disdain; was there anything she was forgetting? She could still remember upsetting a pot of soup last week, and if there were anything she'd want to forget, that would be one of many embarrassing events. Was there any way to even _know_ if she had lost anything? They were lucky Abigail was so clever; otherwise they would never know anything was gone in the first place.

"Perhaps we can combine knowledge and fill these gaps together," Niobe suggested. "Tell me, where in these libraries are these gaps to be found?"

Abigail sighed. "Every other which way! Linguistics, biographies, historical texts, fiction books, children's stories. I know I had two translations of _Sir Gawain and the Green Knight_, but one is definitely gone."

"If that is the case, have you checked the rest of music and art sections? Movies?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that! Goodness, I'll check music in London and Berlin, movies in the States." There was a long moment of silence where Yumiko sat very carefully, trying her best not to fidget and ruin Abigail's thought process. It wasn't much fun, but after what felt like forever, Abigail spoke.

"It's no use; the plague is everywhere. I'm missing music albums, a few films and pictures and paintings." Abigail sounded thoroughly miserable, and then became angry. "We've been robbed! I knew too much Niobe, I knew something."

"We will find your missing items, Abby, I am sure of it," Niobe assured. "And with it we have our—"

Niobe brought the bike to a dead halt, staring off into the woods.

"What?" Abigail asked, both she and Yumiko peering off into the gloom.

Niobe reluctantly said, "That is the third time I could have sworn I felt something shadowing us. It could be nothing more than a stray spider or two; nothing for us to worry over for such a creature could do us no lasting harm. Still. . .error on the side of caution."

She pushed off with her foot and resumed pedaling toward the river. Yumiko thought it was a shame the bike only had one speed.

* * *

_Return. . ._

* * *

Tyelco sprinted off up into the trees; Arielle led the three other girls through the underbrush, her ears and eyes straining. The _urks_ hadn't left the ravine yet, but rising from the fissure was the distinct sound of grousing and breaking camp. It wasn't too late for this to work.

Niobe broke off at the front of the ravine; there, there was a nice, shady patch of boulders for her to hide behind. She'd stay put until she heard Arielle signal by throwing a small stone against one of the trees. Arielle hoped that would momentarily divert the creatures' attention so Niobe could jump out and take them before the creatures could do anything rash.

Leaving Niobe at the mouth all alone sucked. It sucked a lot. Arielle didn't like stepping away while hearing grunting trills and the sound of metal and torn cloth only yards away. But Niobe was unperturbed; with an incline of her head (a motion Arielle now recognized as a trademark of this particular jedi), she slipped back into darkness, one hand gripping a long knife. With Abigail's silencing spell on all their shoes and clothes, it was near impossible to hear any of their movement.

One hand holding her gun ready and the other steering Yumiko, Arielle led the trio up and around to the top. There was a decent ridge for them to crouch behind, and they painstakingly settled down. Pointing with her fingers and motioning to her eyes, Arielle directed Abigail to watch the forest for a sneak attack, Yumiko to be ready with her fireworks and watch for anything coming from the ravine, and for both of them to remain perfectly silent and still until Niobe did her thing.

As Arielle slinked away, she saw Yumiko direct Neko to overlook the precept. For a second, she wondered if the cat had actually just followed an order. Shaking her head, Arielle leapt up and made her way around the perimeter, motioning to Tyelco as she passed that all were in place and safe, except her. He readied his bow from up in his treetop perch as she flew past, dropped down to pick up a stone, and continued on.

Arielle also chose a tree to take up her sniper position. It would allow her to cover Niobe and still have a good angle on _urks_ further back, as well as Yumiko and Abigail's position. Abigail had promised to send up a flair should anything go amiss on their side.

Arielle waited. And waited. Her hands were shaking (she convinced herself that it was from the adrenaline). Then there was a shout, cutting off the rest of the din for a moment, followed by the unmistakable trudging of feet.

Those nasty, ugly creatures were just as grisly as the night before. In the dim light, Arielle could see that their skin ranged from a sickly gray to a blemished brown. They wore ripped leggings, loincloths, or crude leather armor. Several carried their weapons in one hand, a cocoon about the size of a person in the other. All _eight _had cocoons. There were more captured than Tyelco had supposed. To her surprise, they also carried a few spiders; carried, because their legs were either broken or entirely missing. What purpose this served took Arielle a few seconds to put together, but it dawned on her that the _urk_ probably didn't want their captives waking up anytime soon and they'd have their spider venom to keep the _edhel_ unconscious one way or another.

Fist tightly squeezing the stone, Arielle watched as the gruesome company neared the exit confidently. Turning, she threw the stone away. Its impact made a very distinctive THONK and Arielle poised with her gun aimed back down at the company of _urk_.

Niobe was brilliant. Only half the _urk_ had heard the sound for the others were too loud or distracted to notice. That meant Niobe was standing about two yards away from the leader before any of the monsters could blink.

The first _urk _in line dropped his cocoon and raised his scimitar with both hands, barking out orders to the others, something to the effect of "look up" as they were searching the edge for signs of ambush. Arielle drew back into the shadow of the tree to avoid being spotted now that they were looking; it meant she didn't have such good a view anymore. She could see that some monsters had dropped their burdens since bows and arrows took two hands. One had a knife over a cocoon; she set her aim on it.

There were no words to hear. It was eerily quiet as Niobe and the monster starred at one another, daring the other to look away.

Niobe leaned forward; the _urk_ mimicked the motion. She took a slow step; its scimitar wavered, lowering an inch. Its face slackened. Glances of confusion were being spread amid the other _urk_.

Arielle could feel her hands getting clammy, her mind racing. _Fuck, fuck, the jedi is right; she's gonna bring them down just by looking at them._

The scimitar lowered more, and the other _urk_ were getting antsy.

_Focus, Arielle._ She cautioned herself, steadying her aim back on the monster threatening the unconscious being trapped under layers of silk. Her attention focused thus, she only heard the barbarous howl of furry and slick squish. Before she could process what had happened, she shot the _urk _she'd targeted and caught sight of the horror from the corner of her eye.

Niobe stood, her mouth open, sucking in breath and the thing she'd contacted tore its bloody scimitar out of her abdomen.

* * *

A/N: I'm terrible. But the next won't be too long in coming, cross my heart. A hearty thanks to my anonymous first reviewer. I suppose shouting into the ether will cause an effect by and by.

* * *

_urk _(S): ork; stupid, ugly, immoral, and violent bipedal creatures created by Morgoth; the perverse, involuntary corruption of elves.

_edhel _(S): elves

_hai _(J): a positive response; _yes, agreed, confirmed, understood,_ would all be generalized cognates.

_Obake _(J): ghosts, monsters, and spirits of traditional Japanese folklore, and I chose to use the general term, as I don't know of any which would coencide with these spiders.


	17. The Coming Night

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 16

"**The Coming Night"**

* * *

Time and space could slow for Arielle, but there was no turning it back. She was trapped under the weight of an image for something in her brain refused to process that Niobe had been run through, and she couldn't find the strength to move, not when underneath all her uncertainty she'd wholeheartedly believed they would walk away. She'd believed she would ensure they'd walk away. 

Arielle blinked and time was back; Niobe stumbled and the _urk,_ made its escape as an enormous crème colored, long tailed panther bore down on it from the steep ravine wall. There were arrows and red sparks. Before Arielle could aim a second shot, everything went pink. It felt as though a big happy bomb had gone off. A very pleasant, very relaxing sensation overcame Arielle. The air suddenly smelled of headily fragrant lilac, and she thought she was so very small and cradled in the branches of an ancient, flowering bush. It took a few seconds for her to regain a sense of danger, to again see the half-dead tree. Even then, she had to fight against the cozy heat which made her feet leaden and sneeze out the cloying fragrance before she could move.

Arielle let herself drop and managed to stumble her way down into the ravine, fighting the warmfuzzies. Below, dead _urk_ lay scattered amid long, white cocoons. Niobe knelt at the fore of the battle, staring into space and disturbingly cheerful for having a hole in her midsection. The blood blackened the purple of her concert gown.

"Niobe?!" Arielle's panicked voice trilled, falling to her knees before her dazed friend. She grabbed Niobe's shoulders. "Niobe, it's the pink. You snap outta it this minute!"

There, Niobe blinked. Then gasped and wavered a bit, but Arielle held her firm, helping her to lie down. "You're a goddamn idiot, so stupid." She held back an 'I-told-you-so,' because words hadn't prevented this and they wouldn't put Niobe right again.

Arielle wretched the sword strap over her head and off, flinging it to the side, and then removed her black cotton jacket. It would have to do as a temporary bandage. "Tie this around you, hold this here. ABBY! TY!" Arielle didn't know what else to do for the angry wound aside from adding pressure before Niobe bled to death, but the witch probably knew a spell or two, and Ty had his bag.

Niobe's firm grip on her forearm caught Arielle off guard. The jedi had that deep, satisfied look of someone who felt just a teensy bit smug, and for half a second, Arielle wondered how potent that pink stuff could be. Then a content, pleased voice in her head said, _"I was right. His name was Aegnor." _

Niobe then started, trying to move as if to check the ravine opening against Arielle's insistent grip, laboring for breath. "Darkness."

When the bullet time hit her, Arielle was alert enough to lean back and watch as two immaculate arrows nearly skinned her chin flying overhead. Speeding it up, she snatched her gun and half flipped, half rolled over Niobe's body to address the threat to the downed woman. Arielle aimed at her attackers and froze.

They were _edhel_. Two blond _edhel_; two deathly pale _edhel_; two _edhel with bloody punctures marks covering their necks_. Their eyes had the opaque, inconsistent look of distorted glass. Languidly, one's head dropped to its shoulder, popping unnaturally, and both stared forth with unseeing, unblinking eyes.

With deftness and speed Arielle hadn't expected of them, the second dead _edhel_ drew and threw a knife. She dodged it easily, but hesitated to shoot out of sheer denial. They were dead. She'd seen their stiff bodies, they had been thoroughly dead and dead people were supposed to stay that way.

"Shoot!" Niobe gasped. Her disconcertion disconcerted Arielle, and Niobe drew the white knives from sheathes about her waist, preparing for the _edhel_ to come closer. At least there was one thing Arielle had learned in the past minute: if the jedi said to shoot something, it deserved to be shot. In quick succession, Arielle shot each _edhel_ twice, head and heart.

The first _edhel_'s head, now with a large hole though it, lolled to the other shoulder. Together, they drew their swords.

"Fuck."

Arielle threw her gun away and reached for her sword, only to recall a little too late that it wasn't on her back anymore. The _edhel_ zombies were on top of her. They moved with all of Tyelco's deadly grace, forcing Arielle to twist and turn to dodge the double blades converging on her, forcing her to yield them ground. She caught one's wrist, and as she crushed its radius and ulna between her fingers, the zombie casually tossed its weapon to the uninjured hand. As it swung the sword back around, it tried to bite her exposed arm; as said jaw was already cracked, its gnashing was lop sided. Allowing it to lean forward with its own momentum, Arielle leaned back and dropped to the deck, dragging it with her. It wasn't hard to get her feet under the zombie and send it sprawling; only she had to roll to avoid the low swipe of the second. As it took half a second to reverse the maneuver, it gave her enough time to stand and draw them away from Niobe.

Turning to avoid a thrust from the second's sword, her back to the zombie, she caught its arm under her own, and angled a good stomp against a shin behind her (something in its leg cracked and gave way under her foot). She jabbed her elbow into its solar plexus, then remembered that this probably wouldn't have the desired effect as zombies don't breathe. It wrapped a cold arm around her neck and began choking her.

Arielle violently bent forward, flipping the zombie over her back and into the other which had only just regained its footing. A white knife, certainly belonging to Niobe, went flying by her and embedded itself in one of the zombie's legs. The zombie wretched it from its flesh and threw it back at Arielle who, in bullet time, easily snatched it out of the air. She flipped back, landing next to her discarded sword, and ground her teeth as she heard the sounds of another fight ringing out from the top of the ravine.

This fight had to end. It was yards from Niobe, and Yumiko and Abigail were in deep, deep trouble. Arielle lightly tossed the knife back to her immobile friend.

_There were four dead _edhel _you fight only two_. Arielle reminded herself. _And you've seen zombie flicks; behead these fuckers_.

With the grace of the bullet time, Arielle leapt forward with her pretty steel in the third circle of defense; the attack position. When she came down, the zombies barely managed to deflect her single swipe; she got in a good kick to ones chin, but that didn't do much, if any, damage. Swift and agile, they were no novices even though they were dead. Parrying one blade at the hilt, she had to dodge the other, then avoided a leg sent to trip her while shoving the first back, freeing her steel from the gridlock. One momentarily lost balance and she violently attacked the second, slicing, parrying, twist, flick, and i _slash /i _. Off with its head.

Before the second's body hit the ground, the first was back and she wasn't quite quick enough to avoid being raked shallowly across the shoulder blade; it wanted her head as well. As before, this one was good enough to meet Arielle blow for blow and stroke for stroke. It wanted to press her back toward Niobe; its head rolled around as if ungoverned by the force guiding the rest of the body. The puncture wound's narrow slits on its grey neck mocked her with the supposed finality of death. She dropped down again, hoping to upset its balance as before, but this time it didn't fall for it, zealously stabbing down, narrowly scratching her as she rolled to the side, then flipped back into the air and onto her feet behind the zombie preoccupied by pulling its sword back out of the ground. The thing narrowly ducked her first swipe at its head, and before it completely abandoned its sword, Arielle gave it a good, solid punch in the kidney. Its head rose involuntarily, and in one stroke, she swiped it off.

There was no time. Arielle flew back, grabbed her gun which only had one shot in it, and threw it to Niobe who shakily caught it. During the battle, she had dragged herself closer to the wall where she was partially sheltered by a fallen stone.

"Stay there; shoot if there's trouble." And Arielle left before she could think of what might happen if the pale Niobe passed out.

Easily, she leapt up over the ridge and spotted the girls; one undead zombie stood as if frozen in place, Yumiko lay unmoving upon the ground, with Neko on her chest and an ashen-faced Abigail stood beside them, lowering her wand as Arielle appeared.

"What—" Arielle demanded.

"She's only unconscious, this one's petrified, Tyelco," Abigail fearfully pointed in the direction of clashing steel on steel.

Without giving the witch another chance to speak, Arielle commanded, "Watch her,"

and with one hand, grimly lopped the frozen zombie's head off. She was then in the air, racing through branches to the sound of battle.

It only took her seconds to arrive and assess what had happened. The zombie was whole, wielding two long knives and Tyelco held one arm to his body, feinting with one long knife and being backed down. Arielle doubted either knew what had hit the second she dropped like a stone and sliced the zombie's head off from behind. Its head rolled away, and what remained of the body folded in, then stiffly hit the ground.

Tyelco, completely unhinged, staggered for a moment as he stared at the unmoving body in disbelief. Watching her composed friend slowly losing it again, Arielle wanted to kick something. Herself. Anything. Caught up in the desperation of the strange attack, she'd nearly forgotten these were once his friends.

"Ty?" Arielle asked, but received no response. His wide eyes seemed to take in the horror, but didn't seem to actually be seeing the body. Cautiously she walked over to him. "Tyelco?"

He very clearly was not alright, and threw his knife down into the grown by his feet, the blade fully buried. Rage had replaced the confusion on his face, and he turned on Arielle, raised his hand.

Arielle saw the flash of anger in his eyes before he struck, and her senses did not fail to alert her to the danger. For that second, she panicked that he'd somehow become a zombie. But then she saw the sharpness of his breath, and zombies didn't breathe. And she knew why he was distraught; he'd been hard pressed to chop the heads off his friends, just as Arielle would be to cut off his, were he a zombie. And he was pissed. And there was no other to lash out at. And she let his hand connect.

Arielle wasn't usually the most understanding of creatures, but she wasn't mad at him, even as he shook with unveiled furry. Not that she'd let that fly again "Ty?" Her voice carried warning. "You're upset. That's okay. If it were safe I'd let you go sulk, but right now we gotta go back. Okay?"

She reached out to tug on his sleeve, but he easily drew away and gazed on the body with such pitiable forlornness that Arielle didn't know if she had the heart to force him away. Again, she reached out for his sleeve, and this time managed to give it a little tug. "Ty, come on."

He spoke again, his voice pained and angry as if daring her to deny him his grief.

"I know, but our friends," Arielle pointed toward the ravine, "the _edhel_ Ty."

Tyelco seemed to snap out of it at the mention of his people, looked back where Arielle indicated. She was relieved; he probably just remembered the cocoons, and she silently prayed none of them were dead as well. With a glance back at the corpse and a prominent, stark swallow, Tyelco bent and drew his knife out of the ground, then calmly walked over to retrieve its mate lost amid some black ivy. Moments later, they were away, running back.

Tyelco went straight down the side of the ravine. Arielle approached Abigail who was standing exactly where she'd been told. Neko was crouched possessively by her mistress and poignantly licking her paws clean.

"Abby, do you think you could. . .float Niobe up over there, the high ground where Ty was, without hurting her?" Arielle asked. They couldn't leave her in the ravine, and she didn't need any more injuries.

"Yes," Abigail replied without hesitation.

Arielle grabbed her. "I'm carrying you down." Before Abigail could stop it, Arielle had gathered her up and together they dropped down the sheer face. Abigail wobbled a bit when Arielle put her down, but any berating was put on hold at the sight of Niobe, curled up against the wall, pale and obviously in pain.

Abigail ran over, pulling out her wand. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_

Niobe slowly left the ground, trembling and looking like she would faint.

"Over there." Arielle pointed to the higher point of the hill where they could tend to all the injured and survey for further attacks.

"Mmm." Abigail was concentrating very hard, and managed to quickly move around the _urk_ corpses with Niobe before her, doing as Arielle bid.

"Do you think," Arielle asked, unsuccessfully trying to mask the fear in her voice, "you might be able to mend her?"

Abigail's mouth became a line. Though the daylight was very virtually gone, Arielle had been able to make out the dark patch on the ground where Niobe had lain. "We'll see."

Arielle didn't like this answer, but was drawn to the sound of tearing nearby. Turning, she saw Tyelco working with grim determination, knife in his one good hand, to take a cocoon apart. She had half a mind to go over and help him, but Abigail nearly had Niobe up to the ridge.

"Do you have a good grip of her?" Arielle asked.

"Yes, why?"

"I'm gonna carry us back up so you can see where you're setting her." Arielle wasn't about to do anything rash that would endanger Niobe.

Abigail nodded, as if steeling herself for this task. With utmost care not to disturb the wand, Arielle once again lifted her and leapt up the wall.

To all the girls' relief, Abigail held Niobe firmly in the air and was able to set her lightly upon a patch of grass.

"Keep your mouth shut, Jedi," Arielle ordered as Niobe attempted to speak. "Unless it'll put you right again, you're to rest, and do whatever Abby says."

Abigail spoke up, "I'm afraid I only know a few healing spells. Don't look at me like that! They'll help her, certainly, but it'd be a good idea to have Tyelco look at her before she passes out; if he's in the army, he'll know more of the basics, and he brought that medicine bag."

Arielle nodded and was away. In seconds she was beside Tyelco. Though the ravine was darkening, she could still make out the faint relief on his face. Before him, a body was lying on the ground without moving, but the words he greeted her with sounded relieved.

Arielle didn't bother to hide her panic, not anymore, not with her being quite useless in patching people back together. "Ty, Ty up on the ledge, Niobe's badly hurt."

She didn't need to say anything more; he'd seen Niobe float by, and could probably deduce that the girls didn't have much more of a plan than to move the injured woman to higher ground. For a second, he hesitated, then handed Arielle his knife. He spoke aloud, but Arielle followed his gestures. He wanted her to cut his people free and bring them up the hill with her. Arielle affirmed his request with a nod, and pointed to where Yumiko lay protected only by Neko.

Tyelco nodded curtly, and was gone up toward Niobe. At least they were back on speaking terms, or whatever passed for speaking between them.

Up the side of the ravine, Arielle found Yumiko just as she'd left her; out like a light, sandwiched between her backpack and enigmatic pet cat. Neko watched with wide orange eyes as Arielle put on the pack, and then scooped Yumiko up.

"Hey," Arielle warned the small kitten who had her hackles raised. "I'm helping." She tightly closed her mouth, remembering it was just a cat. A cat which apparently could turn into a very big cat, but nonetheless a cat. It bounded up the hill after Arielle, close at her heels. There, at the top, she found Abigail and Tyelco working on Niobe, who appeared to be either unconscious or desperately trying to relax. There was an open bed of grass and ivy all around, spotted with trees, and really, she could put Yumiko anywhere. Setting her and the bag behind Tyelco, where Abigail could easily look over his shoulder and check on the girl, Arielle left them to their work feeling anxious.

Arielle spun Ty's knife in her hand, then dropped down into the ravine. At least freeing the _edhel_ meant she would be doing something productive and might stop her from feeling twitchy.

One might imagine this to be a simple task, but already pushed well beyond her usual stress tolerance, Arielle was in no mood to wrestle with line after line of sticky spider silk. Really, she was rather glad it was dark and no one was around to watch as she wrapped her arms around someone's waist, held the shell down with her feet, and tried to pry him out. It was like pulling a matted batch of bubblegum from hair. If anyone around could have heard her, she'd have made a joke about peanut butter. Or ice. Or some other equally implausible solution to removing bubblegum from hair.

About fifteen minutes later, Arielle returned with one blond and one brunet _edhel_ over each shoulder, mostly unsticky. Tyelco hurried over and helped lay them down. There was no need to check for pulses; their breath was shallow, but regular. Arielle caught a faint smile on his face as he carefully removed strands of silk from the blond's hair.

"_Nessimon," _he explained, and then pointed to the one Arielle situated. _"Ristar."_

"Hello, Ristar," Arielle said, for lack of any better response and plucked a few blades of grass off his face which had managed to get stuck. "We'll see if we can't get you some water, _non_?" She didn't feel completely weird saying it because Tyelco was also talking to Nessimon. Yumiko remained sleeping with Neko crouched upon her chest, as if the cat intended to be a physical barrier for anyone who might be after her mistress' neck.

Arielle stood, then began shouting. "Oy! You, Jedi, _lie down_!" It was dark, but Niobe and Abigail weren't far away and Arielle could plainly see the foolish woman trying to sit up.

Niobe swayed a bit unsteadily, but was clean and wearing a pair of striped pajamas. It was too dark to tell if she was pale or if her eyes were dilated. "I'm finishing my tea; I wish to—"

"What did we say about speaking?" Arielle shouted back and turned on Abigail. "You're supposed to be _helping_."

"I _am_," Abigail snapped back. "She's disinfected and the bleeding's stopped, and we're lucky her kidneys weren't ruptured, because those are poison for everything else and I don't think either Tyelco or I could've patched those back together, and as far as I can tell, I put the intestines right, though I'm not entirely sure how I managed it or if it's a Jedi thing and Niobe did it herself, and the tea's Tyelco's solution for the pain and blood loss, as Niobe tells me."

"Tastes terrible, works _marvelously_," Niobe grinned swaying ever so slightly under the influence.

"I don't know what we'd have done without Yumiko's bag," Abigail continued. "That's where we got the boiled water and the blankets and pajamas."

"Whatever," Arielle said impatiently. "See that she drinks some more water with that stuff and goes to sleep if there's nothing else we can do, okay?"

"Yes, yes, right away Dr. O'Neill," Abigail scoffed. "I'm sure you know exactly what you're talking about. Now run along and fetch the other sleeping beauties before they wake. And do watch out for whatever pit those things were using as a lavatory down there."

Arielle pursed her lips together, seriously caught between punching Abigail and being too exhausted to bother. Niobe hid her expression by sipping her tea and kept her mouth shut. On her other side, Arielle caught Tyelco frowning at them while he was giving one of his friends water, as if their shouting would disturb their recovery.

"Well, I was going to ask you to give them water too, but Tyelco's got that covered. If watching Niobe's too hard, why don't you just go to sleep while Ty and I tend to our ten wounded and watch out for more spiders and monsters and zombies who'd like nothing more than to eat you alive, K?" She didn't stick around to hear a rebuttal. There were a lot more _edhel_ down below, and she reminded herself that it still wasn't safe; she should bring everyone up, cocoons and all.

"She's incorrigible," Abigail pronounced. "As if I she's the only one of us who can carry on in a fight. If Yumiko hadn't passed out after blasting everything pink, I would have gone after the other zombie myself. And she needn't act as though the rest of us were only here to do what she says or completely useless. She shouldn't be shouting or bullying, least of all at you."

"Ashuly, I find it endearing," Niobe slurred a bit.

"What is it about dictatorial egoists that you find endearing?"

Niobe chuckled, then winced. Laughing hurt. "Nothing. Only the spirit in whish," she took a breath, "the dictator elected herself. And I think you," breath, "you may be mistaken about the 'egoist' in Ari-Arielle." She breathed, then laid back with Abigail's help. Sitting and talking was too much. "She feels quite the failure. Likely, she could not have done more," breath, "and it disturbs her and Tyelco that the _edhel_ bodies were used in such a way." Breath, "And I was insistent, and she let me have my way."

"You mean," Abigail swallowed, "those zombie things—they were the ones Tyelco and Arielle found by the river?"

"Yes."

"Then that would mean. . .oh God! Unless _edhel_ corpses normally get up and walk around, whoever did this, they can't be far away!" Abigail's voice rose to a squeak.

"Yes. Whish reminds me," Niobe's attention was diverted to Arielle, carrying up one blond male, and another cocoon whose occupant needed freeing. "You better get her attention."

"Arielle!" Abigail waved the other girl over. Arielle scowled, set them down with Tyelco (who set about cutting immediately), and walked over.

"You two didn't notice Ty's arm is still busted, did you?" Arielle asked irritably.

"He wouldn't let me at it," Abigail said, putting off the topic. "Listen, Niobe figures we're in a lot of trouble right now."

Arielle's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "How so?"

"If those are the same bodies you found by the river—"

"They _are_."

"Then it would be logical to say that who or whatever made those corpses move was in the area shortly after our departure, wouldn't you say? And maybe set them on us?" Abigail hinted.

Arielle locked her jaw, looking thoroughly angry. "Niobe, sleep. I'll bring up the rest of the bodies, then decapitate anything dead down there. And I'll sit watch tonight with Ty, if he's up for it. And watch Neko; she can probably smell anything before you see it."

She then dropped away, down below to fetch all the cocoons quickly.

"Niobe," Abigail asked tentatively, "do you think that maybe, if something in this world can raise zombies, they might be able to bring in dead ones from other worlds? You know, us."

"I cannot accept that as true," Niobe spoke fervently, as much as her pained chest could allow.

"What—"

"What brought those bodies to life was evil; it filled them with the dark." Breath, "I could _feel_ it. If that something brought us here," breath, breath, "we were brought to fulfill its design. Whatever that may be, I doubt it intends goodwill." Niobe sighed, squeezed Abigail's hand. "Help Tyelco with his arm before you rest, will you? And Arielle is injured, though she hides it. I saw the blood."

"Yes," Abby said. "I promise I'll take care of them."

To herself, she added promises not to complain about the chill in the air, nor about how much easier it would be to see if there were a fire, nor sleep until everyone had a makeshift bed, nor to insinuate that Arielle wasn't useful ever again.

* * *

_urk _(S): ork; stupid, ugly, immoral, and violent bipedal creatures created by Morgoth; the perverse, involuntary corruption of elves. 

_edhel _(S): elves

_non_ (F): no?

* * *

Still, I have one review. Just one.

No one loves me.


	18. Gwar the Ur and Him

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 17

"Gwar the Ur and _Him"_

* * *

Running, running, it runs in the night, away from the dark bird, _his_ hands, and the burning pink light. Away from pain, pain, ever chasing Gwar. It curses the salt and the water! It curses the dark bird who saw _his_ face and said _his_ name! It had forgot, it had forgot, never to, never to never to open open open! 

No going back. It will not go back—its master, the one who named _him_ Gwar the Ur, would know and say it was such as waste, and maybe a pity, and give Gwar to Nothing for punishment; Nothing with ink and paper; Nothing it saw in the woods, but did not see Gwar. Master wanted rabbits; it has none. Master dislikes losing orc; it lost all. Master would not be pleased by news of birds; it knows its master would see all—the dark bird, the shape of _his_ hands and the light of her promises. Curses they were, curses and lies! It saw _his_ hands, then the lie; they weren't its and pain raw, worse than the arrow, or later, the cat demon's bit to its rump! It had to run from the pain, it doesn't know how it escaped the cat, only that the pain went numb with the pink. Now the pain grows with its thoughts, grows and grows!

Those birds, the terrible birds! It runs now, it runs to save its skin; running as fast as it can is all it can do to survive—run as fast as it can and leave Nothing behind! But if Nothing (which is coming for the birds, it saw Nothing coming) leaves the birds alive, Gwar will hunt them, Gwar hates them, Gwar will kill them, and then Gwar will forget _him_ again.

Blinding! Curse the salt and the water!

* * *

Authorial Letter to the Wall: 

Hello again Wall,

I hope you're well. How are the bricks; well mortared, I expect? Still blank? Well, just watch out for the cat. Tends to scratch at things something nasty. This is a short tid-bit. Next chapter shall be up soon.

Fond hugs,

Lillayah

PS: Foxtrot is showing up for a graffiti appointment next week. Ta.


	19. Déjà Vu

VERY SPECIAL DISCLAIMER: Trelan and Raniean are OCs from Cassia and Siobhan's _Mellon Chronicles_ . They gave me permission to add them in; they're there because I love fanfic, and this story being a metafanfic wouldn't be complete without appearances from famous OCs. If you have not read any _Mellon Chronicles_ I recommend you do so.

* * *

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 18

"Déjà Vu"

* * *

"By Eru, what have you done?" Demanded a voice from the prince's doorway. Legolas continued skimming through a thick tome as though it were entirely natural to find the Woodelves' archer prince surrounded by a bulwark of literature. To be _reading_ it. 

"Has the library become so overcrowded by new editions that it must now be housed in the royal apartments? Or might the void been filled, Morgoth set free, and his highness has chosen to pursue scholarship of—what is this?! Genealogy?" Raniean was stooped over one pile of tomes, careful not to step on stray scrolls, closely examining the titles and authors as Legolas ignored him.

"I smell conspiracy," Raniean continued, crossing his arms indignantly.

"Do you?"

"Trelan, the short snoop the he is, was seen haunting the infirmary. He was feigning an earache and other such nonsense until found out this afternoon."

Legolas frowned. "Was he?"

"Indeed."

"In that case, he ought to have reported straight back to me on the other infirmed." Legolas' sharp ears caught Raniean's faint growl of disapproval.

"Then it's such a pity he was waylaid by our visitors."

"I don't suppose _you_ had anything to do with that diversion."

"Dear me, never." Raniean made no attempt to sound convincing.

Legolas shut his book and stood. "Fine, I'll follow your lure. What guests did the court receive?"

"A number—say, one-half dozen—all in a thither over the trees."

Trees? He was upset. This might even incur a pout. No one had told him anything about trees. Granted, he'd been avoiding everyone, but he was still the prince. "The trees?"

At attention, mostly because he was finally getting some, Raniean straightened his shoulders. "We received a steady flux of visitors since mid-day. All came to report that the tree-song in their part of the woods has changed, or rather become more frequent and urgent in tone. Some sing of warnings, other despair—"

"It is peculiar and discouraging that I was not informed of this." Legolas discarded his tome amidst one of several book stacks and made for his bed where a clean over-tunic had been laid out for him some hours ago.

"With all due respect, your highness, but of course not. The prince has been off scouting, and tending to boarder defenses, and keeping the hapless wanderers out, and all other manner of wearisome duties. His majesty has insisted that you receive some well-earned rest before . . . is this a script on _Malbeth_?"

"Probably," Legolas replied without seeking visual confirmation as he roped off the last tie on his tunic and strode to the door.

"Enough!" Raniean called, fed up with not being paid any heed. "Whatever you and Trelan are plotting, I demand to be let in on it!"

"Plotting has not ensued. We are currently in the research phase, plot pending. Make yourself useful and read through the books on that side of the couch while I'm gone. Keep a written list of anything unusual concerning Foresight—"

"What in Arda has that to do—"

"And stack them over there when you are done. I'm off to find—" The apartment door opened behind the prince with a bang, admitting Trelan who slammed it shut and pressed his back against the sturdy wood as though he were trying to barricade himself inside. Legolas mumbled, "Speaking of Morgoth . . ."

"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Trelan declared. "That pack of pretentious rabble from the west-wood are the greatest hoard of—" and here Raniean coughed so loudly as to make the shorter elf unintelligible, "—bs this side of . . . are we going somewhere?"

Legolas swatted a half-empty day pack into Trelan's chest and cheerily asked, "Feel up to raiding the kitchens? I wish to hear the tree song firsthand, from different parts of the wood, and you'll be telling me what you accidentally overheard in the infirmary. I will ready the horses. With luck, we will be out before the evening is old and back before the sun rises."

"The sun is only just set!" Raniean protested. Trelan inclined his head toward the stacks of books and a look passed between the prince's companions which was equivalent to 'he's intelligent, but hasn't read this many books in his 2,000 years combined' to 'I know, he's _up to something_'.

"Really Trelan, have you any notion as to what this is about?"

"Something to do with that elf coming in last night and the tree song, I'd imagine," Trelan surmised, turning expectantly to the prince.

Legolas' mind raced. Though he'd canvassed nearly every book in the Mirkwood archives on Seeing and Foresight, his research shed no light on his particular experience, nor how he was to interpret the vision, nor what the curious red bird meant.

"I cannot be sure of what is happening, as there are many clues which do not fit, but I am sure the tree song, the elf, and the spider activity is all related. I know we can uncover the cause and it must be done in all haste."

After a moment Raniean said, "I don't like where your clues are headed."

"Neither do I," Legolas agreed

"Then it really is related," Trelan said.

"It certainly would be, if the anomaly in the tree song originates in the same part of the wood as the spider attack," Legolas reasoned.

"Survey work it is," Trelan said accepting the daypack and slinging it over his shoulders.

"One question before you throw yourselves headlong into danger," interrupted Raniean, pointing at the book stacks. "Why am I going through these?"

As much as Legolas respected and trusted his friends, he wanted to be sure of what he'd seen before making such an outstanding claim as having Foresight when he wasn't sure himself. "For my own assurance, Ran. I need your help on this."

Raniean tried to catch a glimpse of Legolas' sparse notes, but the prince pulled them from view as he gathered his weapons.

"Don't look to me." Trelan insisted as Raniean frowned, looking for explanation. "I have no more inkling than you."

"Kitchen Trelan."

"Yes your highness-ness. Do you require any particular confection?"

"_Kitchen_." Legolas used one of his arrow to point at the door.

"Going." The short elf slipped out, putting on a ridiculous show of being frightened.

Raniean decided another round of dissuasion couldn't hurt. "Leaving at this hour may not be such a good idea." Before any pompously indignant protests could ensue, he added, "Obviously you and Trelan are capable of handling yourselves in precarious situations, but things have become unpredictable of late. Not to mention your father expressed wishes for you to remain here, not gallivanting into the woods after Nolaquen."

"Do think Raniean; with horses along, we must stick to trails and they will be sooner missed about the stable than the prince, wandering tramps he and his friends are. Besides, you ought to know by now that if I were truly planning to so something reckless I'd be dragging you along with us."

"That, there. Your problem is that you never expressly plan to get into trouble; rather, it tends to find you, and like a fool—"

"Happy reading, Ran." Legolas opened the door and took his leave.

"Don't you dare go looking for trouble without me!" Raniean called back, clinging desperately to his future reading as the door shut.

Legolas stepped softly between leaves of dark ivy, thick patches of trees, and rough outcroppings of stone. From all he saw, he recognized the terrain as belonging to the gullies and foothills of the southern Mirkwood Mountains. His horse was far behind him. Ahead, he sensed that the forest cleared. Through the density he heard the sound of fire, but his nose could smell no hint of smoke, nor his eyes see the flicker of flame. There was no other sound; all else was too quiet.

Pressing through a gap in the growth, the branches and nettles gave way before and enclosed after his progress. When the walls about him ceased shifting and the first break in foliage exposed the clearing to his sight, he was met with the quickening scent of blood and the shaded figures of corpses half enveloped by the ivy-covered den. The prince broke through and the shadows, as though they had been death veils, rolled back revealing the faces of the fallen. Nolaquen, Ohtallo, Failon, Turgon, and so many others in the command, half rotted through. At his side was the fresh felled Trelan, one eye plucked out. On his chest roosted the Red Bird and draped in its beak was an eye-nerve, the bloodied white orb dangling on the other end, turning until the iris and black pupil was set upon the prince. He found himself unable to move his arms to set his bow, nor able to turn away from the lidless eye. At once the roaring of the flame pierced his ears and he knew from whence the flame came. It was the Red Bird, raging as though the kindling potential to set the wood alight was encased within its breast.

The prince knew what must be done. He had killed the Red Bird before, and once it was done, this end would be prevented. Ever still did the roar grow louder, until his ears were pained. Something took hold of him, and shook him, but he did not wish to perceive . . . and when had he fallen down?

"Legolas! Legolas, awaken this moment or I'll chain you to a bed in the infirmary!" The voice sounded muffled, as through from far away and through a barrier. Its owner was giving way to frightened panic, and the prince felt someone patting his cheek as to wake him. "Legolas, open your eyes!"

Another voice joined in, the sound still far away but familiar as well and striking close to the prince's heart. He wished to obey it at once, but found he lacked the strength. "Eru, his ears bleed. Legolas, wake! If you hear, know that if you die I shall claim your bow. I shall _snap_ it."

"It's no use! Run for a healer, tell them he collapsed outside his door and will not rouse—"

Mustering what little strength he had, Legolas managed to interrupt and mutter, "Tre—" trying to name his dear friend, Trelan.

"Legolas!" Trelan cried, infirmary forgotten, falling back to his friend's side.

"Quiet, he must be given a moment to speak! And do what you may to open your eyes Legolas, you have the appearance of the dead. It's distressing."

Legolas struggled against the slow-to-fade weakness. He had to get up if he were to stop the Red Bird; he was the only one who knew of it, not to mention that someone needed to let Raniean know that if one was to give another a moment to speak, one must shut up and Trelan wasn't attending to his duties. Prying his stubborn eyes open, he found himself on his back no more than a few steps from his door looking up at the troubled, yet relieved faces of his two best friends.

"You terrorize us Legolas!" Trelan declared, his voice muffled still. Something was definitely wrong with his ears.

"I heard you fall," Raniean said, his face wan. "You'd only just shut the door and once I found you, your eyes were shut like the dead."

"It was I who saw you dead," Legolas replied, his voice returning though he found it unnervingly tiring to speak. "I am not afraid anymore. I have seen the Red Bird, and know I can stop it."

Silence. Incredulously, Trelan started to wave a hand in front of Legolas' face, but the prince swatted it away.

"It's chains and the infirmary, then," Raniean said, taking Legolas' arm and attempting to haul him up, but Legolas shoved him off, his returning strength surprising them both.

Legolas managed to remain sitting upright, recovered his voice, and spoke in earnest. "I am not mad, nor do I jest. The danger is to the south-east, in the gullies and washes; I recognized the land. Some are already dead and Nolaquen is walking into a trap, but if we act now it may not be too late."

Raniean and Trelan were confused. _"What?"_

Urgency was taking hold of Legolas and he spoke quickly. "Ran, the reason I set you on those books was because I though I may have Seen."

Raniean blinked, a rare sight on an elf. "Seen, as in 'I see the wall' or, you know, Seen, as in, _Seen_."

"I'm not pulling one over you. Before, or just as the injured elf arrived I had a dream while I slept."

Trelan's eyes widened. "Like a _mortal_? A _dream_?"

Legolas became angry. He was certain his friends were being intentionally obtuse. "It wasn't a dream! I didn't know what I'd seen, so I went to read up on the subject, but now I have no doubts. I was there, it was real, the Red Bird is the source of these fell happenings and I will put out its flames, assisted or no."

"We do not doubt you my friend." The usual mirth in Trelan's voice was gone; he was perfectly serious, his countenance solemn, though alarmed. "If you say you saw a Red Bird, then we most heartily believe you. But you must admit it is strange, portentous of evil. I do not trust the source of this sight—you never Saw before. It has made you bleed without cause; I fear it may have killed you if Raniean and I had not roused you."

Touching the joint where his earlobe met his jaw, Legolas' fingers felt the narrow stream of drying blood which had trickled from his ear. "This was not the doing of the Sight. It was the Red Bird; it can make such noise. It was so _real_."

Raniean looked even more upset by this revelation and continued to protest, though Legolas could tell Trelan was becoming as set upon this evil bird as his prince. "But that does not explain why you were so weakened, or why something you Saw could effect you here and now! Do not be swayed; speak of this with your father."

"There is no time." Legolas moved to stand, and Trelan was at his side to help him. "Nolaquen and his men should reach the foothills within a day or two; it is unlikely they have already. If we do not move quickly, the bird will meet them first. Father will wish for a war counsel, for healers to prod me and for those with Wisdom to assess my sanity. It would take days, Raniean."

"I know." Indecision and hesitancy crept into his voice. "But I still do not like these evil events, I do not trust the origin of these visions, and I do not trust that this bird wouldn't lure our prince by means of visions into a trap!"

"He makes a good point," Treland admitted.

"But do I leave it to chance?" Legolas demanded. "I could not bear to receive word of harm coming to Nolaquen and his men, while knowing I sat back to preserve my own skin."

"I would willingly bear warning." Trelan volunteered.

"As would I," Raniean agreed, as though the matter might be settled.

"This is beyond sending messages!" Legolas felt his heart twist in his chest; he knew, simply _knew_ he was the only one who could stop the bird before it did its worst. Before the flames started to burn. "I am leaving for the south-east, on horse as long as I can until the wood forces me to my feet. My destination is known."

"Then I will go with you," Trelan stated.

Raniean still looked dubious.

"I am not ignoring your concerns."

"You are. You don't know anything about Sight. You're a level-headed warrior, not subject to whim. You're not acting yourself."

"Whim? I act judiciously, and so far my caution has cost lives."

"How can you possibly know?"

Legolas touched the blood again; his dratted ears still smarted, and he worried they would for some time. "Would I willingly ask you to keep a weather ear open for me, in the wood? I can hear no further than the entrance hall." He admitted bitterly.

Raniean and Trelan exchanged startled glances. "You cannot hear the guard—"

"No. It is returning, but it will be slow to recover."

"But it couldn't have been—"

"Real?" Legolas questioned, but his point was made. "Ran, my friend, I am about to do something reckless."

Raniean sighed. "Then it is decided. You may not go looking for trouble without me!"

-oOo-

Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.

Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.

"Déjà vu."

Arielle blinked.

"Shit."


	20. It Speaks English!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows! Hurray!

I'm very nice. Before going on my nine day vacation I've seen to giving you lot the next chapter. By all means, enjoy, because the next update won't be for at least nine days. I will be in Iowa in a place where the computer is so old it does not have Microsoft Word. Not to mention, my twin's internet connection isn't working at her hotel.

So be patient. I should have some goodies for you; the next chapter is a short with Gwar. Who is turning into my absolute favorite character, I'm afraid. Especially since I know what's in store for him.

Happy Holidays!

Oy, and before I get angry responses from any reviewers, I know that Westron and English are the same. Got it. Whatever. I'm the author of this meta, I'm making them the same. Deal.

**

* * *

**

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 19

"It Speaks English!"

* * *

Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down. 

Arielle saw a bat flutter and perch upside down.

"Déjà vu."

Arielle blinked.

"Shit."

The foreign electrical current set off the remnants of a pacemaker still nestled in her heart, skipping several beats. The sensation was akin to that of chewing on aluminum foil. Only in her chest.

Déjà vu. Instinct told her to run, run and not stop. But this world wasn't the Matrix. Déjà vu might be ordinary déjà vu, like on Earth. Or was it _déjà vu_ as in _glitch_ déjà vu? If it was a glitch then the system had been changed and it was likely the bad guys were up to no good. Maybe an attack. Logically, she needed to identify which kind she was dealing with, and to do that she had to detect either the change or the attackers. If neither showed her déjà vu was nothing more than a product of both sleep depravation and the supposedly defunct pacemaker acting up in her chest.

The bats were still dinking about apathetically on their perches. None of the trees looked out of place. Earlier in the hour Tyelco had been murmuring softly to the night, but now all was quiet in the camp below.

Then, peering further out into the darkness on the hillside, she glimpsed an anomaly creeping low. It glided over the ivy and dispersed like a cloud of smoke hit by a strong wind. Horror. It paralyzed her. It hadn't been. . .

She was reluctant to call what she saw a 'something,' as she was certain it wasn't 'some' of any 'thing'. It wasn't a dark hole where there should have been 'something' nor a black mist evaporating. She could see the ivy through it, sort of, and the air hadn't been distorted as when heat radiates from concrete—it had simply been nothing. A horrible, terrible, anomalous nothing.

Itt set Arielle's heart pounding in her ears. She could feel her pulse in her fingertips and her lips; her senses were in overdrive.. She hadn't the words to describe such a fear, danger, nothing. Did it warrant screaming wolf if all she could tell the others was. . .nothing ?

Wolf it was.

She dropped and landed directly next to Abigail's head. In a skirt she wouldn't have made such a maneuver on account of the sleeping Abigail chancing to look up to an excellent view of her underwear, but before retiring for the night Abby had forced some nice blue cotton pajama pants and a faded Superman t-shirt eerily similar to the pair she slept in at home upon her. Friggin' Mary Poppins bag.

"Abby?" she whispered hoarsely. Snorting awake, Abigail turned over on her grass mat and stared stupidly up at Arielle.

"Up. _Déjà vu_."

Abigail squinted. "What time—"

Arielle made a quick claming motion with her hand and enunciated, "Day-jà _voo_."

Abigail propped herself on her elbows, her confused face about to open and ask a stupid question (probably something to do with why she'd been awakened after only receiving two hours of sleep) when her mouth formed an "o" and her eyes went wide. To Arielle's surprise, she didn't start wildly turning about to see what was wrong. Instead, she went for her wand and started gathering herself to stand and be ready, but wasn't hopelessly obvious about it. With a nod, and a mental note to give Abby crap about wearing a nightgown resembling something her grandmother would wear, Arielle continued to scan the darkened woods for any sign of movement that wasn't wind or bats. She avoided one of Yumiko's outstretched arms, heading for where she'd heard Tyelco's light voice earlier. Sure enough, he rose from amid the still forms; he'd noted her arrival, and from his pleasant greeting she supposed he thought she wanted to switch watch. How exactly did one explain déjà vu, glitches, and this kind of danger without words?

Danger first.

Arielle darted her eyes, and _only_ her eyes in the direction of the. . .anomaly, once, and itched her trigger finger next to her six-shooter.

How she adored this _edhel_! The greeting remained on his lips, but the spark of welcome flickered out of his eyes. An inclination of his head let her know he was wary; he would follow her lead. There was no time to process such responsibility, nor the breadth of the trust he was placing in her judgment.

"Abby?" Arielle heard her take a few steps forward. "Know any spells for bad stuff that can't necessarily be shot?"

"Of them? Yes. Am I apt? Have I even attempted—"

"Got the idea," Arielle kept her voice low as the three circled up for a chat. "Keep a sharp eye; we're gonna do a sweep. Put that photo-memory to use and see if you can't find something that's been changed, anything that might resemble a glitch."

"A glitch? Is that even possible?"

"This past day considered, is the notion we're in a computer-generated virtual reality really so surprising?"

"Point."

"Yeah. Could you manage some light without giving us away?"

Abigail snapped her fingers and went for Yumiko's bag. After a flick of her wand and a whispered spell, she held up a jar containing a deep blue flame, shading the wood cobalt and shadow.

"Great. Now I expect the crazy 88 and a ten-year-old to show."

Abigail, who had been displaying her jar with a good deal of pride, shoved out her lower lip and quipped, "Would you prefer it if I set off some flairs? Or a flashlight, as I do believe we're on the pinnacle landmass for some three kilometers."

Arielle had only been joking to relieve some tension, and was now more exasperated than before. "It wasn't criticism, just—nevermind. Get behind me." Tyelco had already elected himself her wingman. There was no time to ponder the fact she was getting used to it.

Abigail looked back to those sleeping in the camp. "But who's minding them?"

"Mew," said Neko.

"Come on," Arielle hissed.

Abigail was rather put out that no one was answering her questions, but there was no time to delay. It was up to her to find the change, or glitch, if anything had happened to their surroundings. Comparing images was a fairly simple process for her, only mildly complicated by the blue tinge. Color palates weren't her forte.

They swept the northern end of the camp. It was here Arielle concentrated and looked to Abigail expectantly; Abigail saw no difference, or at least none that couldn't be passed off as wind or an animal. A glitch would be a bit more dramatic, Abigail supposed, something to give an enemy leverage. She was dying to ask Arielle what she'd seen that upset her—for upset she was, striding forcefully, twitching her head about at every sound, oddly placing her hand over her heart now and again, actively seeking _something_ she wasn't seeing—but they had already spoken too much, and there was the light to give them away yet. From the corner of her eye, she caught Tyelco sending Arielle concerned glances (which probably weren't lost to Arielle), as he wasn't seeing signs of an attack.

The trio made a horseshoe about the camp, back around to where the crag split open only a few meters from the camp. Arielle, her face grim, motioned that she was going down. To Abigail's relief, Tyelco shook his head 'no'.

"We can't; it's too easy an ambush Arielle," Abigail whispered.

"And it's a good way to ambush us up here if they can climb."

"There's nothing out here."

Tyelco took Arielle's arm and turned his head toward camp, his face radiating concern.

"Don't!" She shrugged him off and he quirked a brow, unimpressed. "We have to make sure."

"What did you see?"

"A bat. Twice."

"Liar," Abigail snapped. "You told me we might be facing something you couldn't shoot. What did you see?"

"Well if it were an Agent, I wouldn't be able to shoot it very well, could I?"

Abigail crossed her arms, shifting the blue light about, letting everyone know she was no one's fool. "Your very posturing of a secondary hypothesis as to what you may or may not have seen suggests that you did see something. What. was. it?"

"Bad juju. I saw really fucking bad juju riding the four horsemen directly into the apocalypse, _dijobu_?" Her nostrils flared.

"You're serious." Abigail stated methodically, nodding. "What did the 'juju' look like?"

Arielle pressed her lips together. Tyelco glanced uncertainly between the two girls; Abigail waiting patiently and Arielle opening, then closing her mouth, her chin ever so slightly quivering.

"You know what the Matrix is, right?"

"Of course."

"It's something you have to see it for yourself; I mean, it's damn near impossible to simply explain it."

Abigail's eyes narrowed, "So this 'juju'—"

"I can't tell you what I saw, Abby. I don't know what that. . ._anomaly_ was."

"Anomaly?"

"Anomaly."

"Arielle, please, don't take this poorly, I think you're spot on, really. But you haven't slept for two days. . ."

"I saw it." Her hands became fists.

Abigail sighed. "I believe you think you saw something. . .:"

"I didn't imagine it!"

"As far as we know, what you saw has a natural explanation in this world."

Then, an unfamiliar voice spoke:

"You may ask."

Arielle had her gun aimed before the sentenced was complete. She didn't even take the time to look at her target before she shot. Two things then happened simultaneously; Abigail let out a keening scream and Tyelco sucker tackled her from behind. Under normal circumstances, she supposed that a sixteen-year-old hitting the ground chest first would smart and leave one winded. First the air left her lungs, and then something in her chest popped. She could feel the grinding and twisting and her heart shifting in its cradle. Her stomach rolled, her eyes watered, her chest was suffocating her. Her chin hurt. She couldn't breathe: _déjà vu, déjà vu, déjà vu, _her head sobbed, as her body couldn't.

With effort, Arielle fought off the sparks behind her eyes and the blanket of unconsciousness. She took one sharp breath, then another.

"Gerrooff." Arielle growled as Tyleco, still on top of her back, took hold of her wrist with his only good arm, vying for the gun. While zombies didn't use their solar plexuses, it was a safe bet that live _edhel_ did. Her elbow met him precisely (she heard the woosh of his exhale) and it allowed her a moment to gasp, "I. Missed. On. _Purpose_. Moron."

The voice spoke again. "Mad-devil! _Um-edan_! Do you wish to bring all fell beasts upon us? All Middle-Earth heard you!"

Craning her head, she saw another _edhel_ on the ground, as if he'd just attempted to dodge a bullet, one bound to miss anyway.

Abigail had dropped her jar and looked on the scene before her in horror. "It speaks English!"

Arrogant furry covered his face at her words. Every ounce of it was set on Abigail and the witch actually whimpered. "_I_ fluently speak and read _Westron_, unlike your illiterate race which indulges in no other tongue than its own."

"Arielle, Arielle it's taunting me!" Normally, Arielle would have found this sentence uproarious and would have taunted Abigail herself. That is, she would have if the woman wasn't preparing to dart into the woods, alone, in terror, near tears, in a somewhat hysterical mental state.

The _edhel_ was only incensed. "You will address me with respect—"

"Shut. Up," Arielle gasped. Tyelco was getting off her back, literally. It was too bad that at the moment she couldn't stand._ He'll notice something's wrong with me; he'll see Abigail's in trouble. _"Jackass."

"I'm not the one signaling our location while the company is indisposed."

Using one arm she pushed against the ground and managed to turn her torso on its side without using any of her chest muscles. It was a trick she'd learned in the hospital. Her vision was swimming a bit, but she could still glare up at the _edhel_. She coughed harshly, and could taste a bit of blood in her mouth. "Oh, it knows where we are; it's already here, waiting for the party to start." She couldn't help herself. "Jackass."

"_It_?!" Abigail shrieked.

"The bad juju Abby, the bad ju—" here Arielle coughed again, painfully sputtering up a few more spots of blood into one hand. Tyelco did notice and fell to his knees, gingerly taking her hand to see what the matter was. In a flurry of irritation, Arielle swatted at him and shouted, "You've done enough damage!" Except this only served to wind her, leaving her curled up on the ground, gasping when she could not afford to be. Not when they needed her most. Terribly concerned, Tyelco was rattling off words she could not understand as though to comfort and assess the situation. Unfortunately, it only set Arielle further on edge, as she could not understand him, let alone respond.

The other _edhel_, whom she just recognized as the blond Nessimon, was using a nearby tree for support, obviously not completely recovered from the spider venom. He condescendingly stated, "Guardian Tyelco is apologizing unnecessarily and wishes to know if you are in need of assistance. Or should I restate your previous assertion?"

She was being mocked. "No worries. I only broke something important," she said as she ever so carefully pushed against the ground, ever so obviously in pain.

And Nessimon, sneering, said the second sucker-punch of the evening, worse than taking one in the chest: _"Weak."_

Arielle saw red. She could fell the bullet-time humming around her, hers to master. Having a high pain tolerance helped. Still on her back she spun about like some crazed break-dancer, drew one leg up to her chest, and solidly applied her Doc Martin clad heel to the underside of his jaw. As an afterthought she mused that if she'd hit only a bit harder, or angled it just so, the whiplash probably would have killed him. She still couldn't muster enough sympathy to feel sorry about it. After all, it hurt her almost as much as it hurt him.

Tyelco was holding her down with his one good arm again and this time a bewildered Abigail was pitching in. Arielle was only half conscientious of the juvenile phrases (even to her own ears) being shouted from her mouth. She was so angry she didn't care that she'd actually said, "How does that feel for _weak_, jackass?" which was just about as weak a retort as they came, especially since she was gasping and hacking up blood after every other word.

"ENOUGH!" Bellowed a deep, familiar voice. In disbelief, Arielle snapped her head to the side setting her at eye-level with Niobe. A morphine-drugged Jedi with a hole in her stomach literally dragging herself into the commotion. "I feel essential; I go to sleep for a few hours and already there is a quarrel I must quell."

Arielle lay gasping on the ground, trying to catch her breath. Then, exerting as little energy as possible, pointed at Niobe. "Oy, Jedi, what did I say 'bout moving?"

Niobe smiled her wide, enigmatically knowing smile. "So says the woman held together with rope and staples."

"Rope?" Abigail squeaked, "Staples? Whatever does she mean Arielle?"

"S'no big deal. To bed with you, Jedi!"

If the light weren't blue, Arielle was sure Abigail's face would be purple with furry. "You're coughing up BLOOD. Why?!"

"I had some surgery. Routine."

"Routine where? Auschwitz?" Abigail shrieked.

"Calm down. I know it'll sound bad, but they do it all the time these days."

"_What?"_

"It was just open-heart surgery! I'm fine!"

Abigail did a stunning impression of a fish out of water. Tyelco's head was snapping back between the girls then shouting in his own language at poor Nessimon who was still in somewhat of a daze between the kick and venom, not entirely up to translating.

It occurred to Arielle that this required further explanation. "It's routine Abby, honestly, they sent me home in three days. I rebounded like a spring."

Abigail's eyes began to tear up, "Oh Arielle. . .and all this time you were hurt. . .you must have been in so much pain fighting, and fragile—"

"I'M NOT FRAGILE!" Arielle shouted hoarsely. It hadn't hurt. Much.

"I know what open-heart surgery is!" Abigail snarled, in full-on hysterics, "Don't you dare try to fop it off as some routine exam! Your sternum's cut in two, straight through the bone. They cut your heart out, and fixed it, and put it back in and in the process a good portion of your lungs probably died (and it's probably ruptured now, you ninny!), and there's nothing holding you together at this moment aside from some metal brackets and, and _string_, and a millimeter of skin!"

Arielle was about to be outraged and insist she was fine, except Abigail burst into tears, and between sobs said, "And you battled monsters and spiders and saved a pack of strangers and never thought of yourself, did you? I feel sick just thinking of what that must have felt like and you never, never complained. Not a word. Oh, I'm so sorry, so sorry I—"

Arielle patted Abigail awkwardly on the arm as she shook her head half horrified, half in denial. "It's okay Abby. I was fine." At the moment, Arielle just wanted to find a hole and die of embarrassment. Especially now that Nessimon was sitting nearby, glaring at her, hearing every word and to her horror, would eventually relay what was said to Tyelco.

But Abigail was on a roll. Crying, she tool Arielle's arm and spoke in earnest. "I said the worst things. I didn't mean it that way. . .you're not fragile where it counts. No one who does that. . .you're not fragile at all."

Arielle didn't really know where to look. Her throat was tight and there were little prickles in her eyes. "I think I. . .you're crushing me Abby."

Abigail jumped back. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Well!" Niobe said, spearheading the awkward silence before it could ensue. "I think I'm done here. Abby, be a doll and float me back to bed."

"Oh!" Abby was easily distracted as a child to a shiny object, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her nightgown. "Niobe you shouldn't have moved."

"I can't help it." Niobe secretively winked at Arielle as Abigail took out her wand. "I move as the Force moves me."

"Damn meddling Jedi," Arielle muttered, taking a moment to reflect on just how tactfully Niobe had completely placated the situation within seconds. _We'd have killed each other by now without her,_ Arielle thought.

There was a loud gasp accompanied by the sound of leaf litter rustling, which Arielle could tell was Nessimon's reaction to Abigail doing magic without even looking. Tyelco was instantly over by his side, speaking in a hurried but quiet voice. He was probably telling Nessimon that the four girls were alright in spite of their really freaky weird powers. She hoped he was telling the jackass to stop being a jackass. At least Tyelco's voice was soothing. Given the circumstances, she might have fallen asleep then and there if she didn't have a big rock digging into her back.

And if she hadn't seen a bat overhead.

After, she couldn't recall how she managed to get on her feet or draw her sword. She just did it because she had to.

"Come down here!" Arielle shook her sword up at the air. "You sonofabitch, you come down here and _play_."

For a moment nothing happened. Then, materializing from nothing, a little scrap of paper fell from heaven, shimmering in the blue light and landing at Arielle's feet.

"Abby—"

Abigail didn't need telling. "_Accio_ _paper_!" The little slip must have flown to Abigail successfully, as she soon poked Arielle (who was concentrating on the canopy) in the shoulder.

"It's for us, I think." The witch looked pale. And terrified.

Arielle took the slip. In black cursive was written:

_Interlopers:_

_The board was set before your time, _

_THE END, predestined._

_The world is now my possession._

_Any intrusion is mine to check._

_I have moved my pawn. _

_Die, and do not return._

_-C.T._

Arielle was in the middle of formulating a witty retort, something to do with how much hurt a disembodied nothing could really bring on, when a brilliant streak of pink light shot through the air, cutting the blue. As it struck the vicinity of where the paper materialized, pink sparks exploded followed by a long hissing.

"Gone!" A wide awake, albeit grumpy, Yumiko declared. "It two in morning! I want sleep, I am tired. But you—" and here her glare passed over the stunned group of _edhel_ and women in turn, "talk, talk, talk all night long when we have long day!"

"Mew!" Agreed Neko, sitting at her mistress' feet.

"Now Nothing gone. We sleep peaceful tonight. No more chat-chat!" She slung her bow over one shoulder and grabbed Arielle by the arm. In all the excitement, Arielle hadn't realized she was teetering. And felt sick. And every inch of her chest ached.

"No more bang-bang tonight, Elle," Yumiko ordered over her nose, wagging one finger in Arielle's face. "I help you sleep; you feel better tomorrow."

Arielle, her shoulders hunched over from the pain, grinned. "You speak English."

"Who say I didn't?"

"Nobody. It's just, you never said more than a few words before."

"When did I need to?" Yumiko asked giggling.

"Touché."

Abigail huffed as she once again pointed her wand at Niobe. "Anyone else wish to declare their fluency?"

"No need to be upset, Abby," Niobe soothed.

"It's ridiculous Niobe! At the going rate, I half expect Neko to start reciting sonnets."

"Meow!" Neko denied.

"And—good edhel, I didn't catch your name," Abigail said, turning to poor Nessimon who was floundering for words.

"It's Lieutenant Nessimon—"

"Lieutenant Nessimon, I'd like to apologize for my outburst earlier. So rude! I say the stupidest thing when I'm unnerved. I had all you edhel pegged as aliens; imagine my shock when you spoke English."

"Westron." Nessimon corrected icily. "And 'edhel'is the Sindarin word for our kind. In Westron, we are 'elves'."

"Elves?" Arielle asked, confused. She was thinking about Santa's elves, but she wasn't dumb enough to say that out loud.

"Elves, fair folk, firstborn," he spat, his frustration mounting. "Who are you? _What_ are you? I demand you reveal the content of that slip of paper and what it is going on!"

"You could have _asked_," Arielle mocked and passed him the paper. "But it's funny; I was gonna ask you the same question."

Nessimon read in silence; Yumiko huffed impatiently as she supported Arielle.

"What is this?"

"You tell us. It was after you lot first; we rescued your asses, and now it wants us all. Tyelco can tell you all about the fun."

Yumiko cleared her throat.

"In the meantime we're all going to bed. Night Ty."

The elf inclined his head to her and was then subjected to Nessimon's demands in his own tongue.

In a low voice as they hobbled the few steps back to camp, Arielle asked, "Are we really in the clear Yumiko?"

"_Hai_, for now. My arrow struck close, but not in heart."

"I've been dying to ask you: what is that pink stuff?"

Yumiko laughed. "Purity! Love! Life! Peace!"

Arielle would have laughed, but that hurt.

"You sleep now; I help," Yumiko helped her sit down on a tutomi mat spread next to Niobe. "Neko will watch."

Arielle sat, miserably examining her t-shirt. "I got blood on me. And this was my favorite t-shirt too."

"I get you another!"

"No, no thanks. I'm good."

Abigail, having set Niobe on the ground volunteered. "I could clean it up. _Scourgify_!"

In a burst of unanticipated bubbles, her shirt was cleaned spotless, though left a bit wet. "Warn a woman before you do that! It's weird."

"Sorry."

While Arielle was still distracted, Yumiko poked her chest, right over her scar with some pink which eased some of the pain.

"Hey!"

"I no apologize!" And the miko plopped down on her mat with a sigh of contentment.

"Impossible." Abigail muttered as she lay down, drawing a blanket over herself and putting out the blue light.

Arielle slowly followed their example, easing onto the mat and removing her weapons, setting them close to her head. After shifting a bit she found Niobe, who lay next to her, awake and smiling.

"Whatever you're on, I want some," Arielle whispered

Niobe chuckled, but forced herself to stop. "No jokes. They hurt."

"Preaching to the injurry choir, sister," Arielle replied, patting her chest.

"I was musing on our current predicament. Our strengths."

"Strenghts?." Arielle quipped, and checked her volume. "Take a look around you. We're the merriest bunch bitch-slapped fuck-ups this side of the whore house."

Niobe's chest rumbled, fighting back laughter again. "Ah, but we have trust; we have it in one another and trust that the edhel will return it to us. Where mercy is shown, so it is given."

"They still need protection Niobe. I did have déjà vu. Whatever sent that paper meant business, it screwed with the _system_, foundations of the friggin' universe and the elves haven't a clue what's going on."

"Still, I say we have been one step ahead of this 'juju', up until the incident with the zombies. That stands for something."

"Yeah, we didn't know about this juju until tonight," Arielle replied, her lowering further, "But I'd had the feeling we were being followed since we left the tree house. Ten bucks says it was this C.T. thing, or something with C.T. I feel like the walls are closing in on a trap."

"Hmm." Niobe frowned. "I also sensed we were being followed."

"Whatever's going down is big, Niobe," Arielle squinted a bit, catching sight of Tyelco and Nessimon softly speaking at the outskirts of the camp. "And I bet they know more than they've let on."

"Perhaps," Niobe said indifferently, though her eyes suggested she agreed. "But it is time for rest. I confess, I am not well."

Arielle snorted. "No shit."

Niobe closed her eyes. "Go to sleep Arielle."

Secretly, Arielle didn't want to stop talking. Stopping meant having to sleep. She dreaded sleep. And quiet. She felt twitchy. "Night."

And Arielle was alone with her thoughts (bats, cracked cups, the definition of 'elf', CT. . .Complete Tool? She knew a Clifford Thomas in third grade. . .) and pain to keep her company.

As she drifted, she wondered what CT had meant by 'pawn', and slept in unease.

_

* * *

_

_Um-edan _(S) evil mortal.

* * *

Many thanks to Chibi-Ed for reviewing. I hope this chapter provides something like an answer for you. This story is a bit of a brain buster, yeah, but I promise you I know what I'm doing. The pieces will fit and it will make sense. 


	21. Fragile Things: I

I just got Neil Gaiman's collection of short stories, Fragile Things. Love it! Everyone must read "Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire" as it is one of the most brilliant short metafiction stories ever!

* * *

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 20

"Fragile Things"

* * *

Gwar the Ur is not himself. It can see pink—it hadn't noticed pink before. 

It sits in blood, covered in black blood, but it feels no rush of satisfaction. It is not sated. Only pain and confusion, terrible confusion remains in its mind. It doesn't know why it sees so much in the dawn.

It had run and run to the River Running. There it meant to cross the river and the boundary of Mirkwood near the place mortal men camped—but not too close as to arouse their interest—to slip by unseen, unheard, in silence. Invisible. Nothing.

But in its confusion—it was well confounded before, make no mistake—its addled brains did not connect the foulness of the air to the waiting orcs. Gwar had not expected them, they were not a part of the master's original plan. Yet there, taking shelter in the rocks at the edge of the water were orc, all stinking of mice (they'd had some fun with men, it was true). At the fore stood Molluk the Knot, one of Gwar the Ur's seconds, grinning. Showing its rotten, yellowed teeth. Grinning as if he is leader of all orc, not Gwar the Ur. It could see it in its eyes, in the band of orc behind him.

"It is Gwar the Ur," Molluk said, "or is it Gwar the Traitor? Here I hold words from Nothing—" and Molluk would, being of only nine orc in Middle-Earth which could read, "—saying a traitor would come by this way having fouled up his mission and fled like a coward."

"Gwar is no coward!" It had roared back, though its voice—its voice was different and it hurt its throat to correct it. It stood to its full height; it felt taller than before, ever. Molluk's grin faltered at the sight, but the orc did not move its stance.

"It is master's most faithful, it is Orc General. It would be dead before it was traitor!"

Molluk grinned again, again, again! "Nothing said Gwar left his band to die and all the pretty elves—" he spat "—got away and the spiders won't do as they're told."

Gwar could feel its heart beating out its rage, its frustrate, frustration mounting it lied, half believing the lie itself. It fell, falling down with the lie. "Nothing! Nothing?! Gwar served master millennia before Nothing: Nothing is the traitor! Nothing followed us, Nothing filled the spiders to brimming with mistrust, Nothing wanted the pretty elves to itself, it needs them. Gwar knows the secrets of Nothing's magic ink and paper is in the elves _(for this is true: Gwar spied with his own eyes!)_. Nothing was greedy and Gwar saw! Why else would Nothing send letters to you, Molluk, and not to master; not let master order his own orc? Why does Molluk obey Nothing and not master?"

Now Gwar could see the way the other orc fretted. Those orc, they never were much for logic. Thought was difficult, once so difficult for it. These orc found it no easier, shifting and fretting and scratching their heads and fretting, fretting and Gwar hated it, for the lie could not be taken back to master, never, never could pass orc lips.

Molluk only grinned. Gwar suspected, suspected Molluk knew the lie and how far Gwar could go. "S'only fitting for a traitor to switch blame. But Nothing also sent letters you were _soft_. Nothing was exact, said you let one go."

"Gwar ran the woman through!" Gwar drew its weapon, showing its bloody blade.

"It's easy enough to test." Molluk whistled, the rest of the orc stomped, stomp, stomping their feet and jeering, shoving a creature forward. A mouse. A baby mouse by its size.

"Kill it," Molluk ordered and grinned. "Kill it if you are an orc."

There was blood on the mouse already—blood had leaked from its nose—and its eye was black and smelled of piss. And fear, blind fear that should have raised—razzed—Gwar into a frenzy, such a rush and satisfaction. It could not feel it. No rush. Only—only a curious ache it could not, cannot, understand.

From the periphery, Molluk grinned, and Gwar saw the taunt in his eyes. Molluk did not care who betrayed master. Molluk, under Gwar's command, rightfully feared Gwar, rightfully obeyed Gwar. But with the letters, Molluk had seen his chance to topple Gwar as surely as Nothing had intended.

Molluk was old, very old, old enough to lead, though not as old as Gwar the Ur. No orc was ever so old as Gwar. So old. So tired.

Gwar expected to rage. Gwar _would_ have raged. But it did not. It snatched the mouse by the hair and dragged him to Molluk and cut Molluk to pieces before he, Molluk, could raise his hands, it moved so fast. So fast without the usual ache in its joints.

The orc cheered, stomping and bellowing and certainly (it was so clear, the way the thoughts occurred to it now) letting the other mice know where their snatched young was. The orc finished tearing Molluck apart, the death of the cause for disorder in the pack an affirmation of their common union in bloodlust. It kept dragging the sniveling mouse and the other orc let it, as the mouse now belonged to it, as it owned their lives.

It left the shaking mouse at the river to follow the current home. It didn't want a mouse. It didn't like the way the mouse smelled. The mouse fell to the ground where it was dropped and shook, staring at it, like it'd never seen an orc before.

"Go home to your mother!" It hissed and the mouse scampered.

And there was not much else to do. It could now allow the orc to return to the master and tell. Nothing would know. Master always knows.

It killed them. It killed the orc by the river, walking back to the middle of camp and killing them all. So easy, and it finds it does not care. Nothing in it cares or wants that anymore. It doesn't know why not.

Now there is nothing but blood and corpses and his voice sometimes coming from its mouth. What was Gwar now? What was it now? Gwar was broken. It didn't understand. It could only run past the boundaries, away from the oncoming daylight and. . .hope. Hope it did not have to go back.

* * *


	22. Lull

If what I write makes you feel something, like that little tickle at the back of your mind telling you pay attention, let me know. We writers want to know if it's working.

**Fair Warning:** From here on out, any fandom, any of them, is my playground. Sit down, hold tight, and let me push the swing.

**Boundaries of Mirkwood**

Chapter 21

"**Lull"**

Though by no means a morning person, Abigail was often required to function at early hours with or without sufficient sleep and long ago resigned herself to the hours her studies imposed upon her. Grouchy and somewhat irritable was often her disposition come 7 o'clock. A stiff cup of tea made for a handy crutch, but was never a solution. To compound her problems with sleep depravation, the 'snooze' button on her alarm was no more than a taunting contrivance. Tired as she may be, once disturbed from her evening rest she rarely managed to doze off a second time. The compounding of these two factors resulted in a shortened morning fuse and, back home, gave her reason enough to pay extra for a single dorm room while at uni, as opposed to a double and a roomie.

This morning Abigail awoke suddenly, shaken from sleep by a nightmare wherein she'd just thrown herself from a white tower and onto jagged spires below. Eyes open, she was somewhat startled to find herself in the woods lying on a straw mat aside Arielle, and off in the distance, what her sleep disoriented mind initially mistook for beautiful, waif-ish ghosts.

Elves. There was a frustrating tickle at the back of her fugue afflicted mind. The tickle had the feel of something particular she'd forgotten regarding elves, though she was certain she'd never met an elf before dying in a creek bed. Of course not. Not in the least bit possible because there were no elves on Earth; yet . . . it _tickled_.

The small elven company was scattered about the fringe of the tree line. Their voices were soft and stoic, light and crisp as autumn air. Several looked to her as she sat up; she smiled and quietly greeted them with, "Good morning."

Either they did not understand or did not care. They turned back to one another without response. Apparently she was to be left to her own devices for breakfast and readying for the day.

To her left slept her companions. Arielle mumbled in her sleep, a bandoleer halo of weaponry about her head. Beads of perspiration bedewed Niobe's forehead, which somewhat concerned Abigail, but not enough to compel her to wake the ill Jedi. Neko left Yumiko's side, inquisitively mewing for something to eat. Jumping up, Abigail made her way around the sprawled legs toward Yumiko. Surely her bag would have a bathrobe and food.

Precisely where it ought to be, the bag lay to Yumiko's left, but another, unexpected figure lay beyond. An elf, face up and staring into nothing without acknowledging Abigail's presence. Being ignored was nothing new for Abigail and her attention returned to Neko.

"Do you eat ground beef? Tuna? I expect you would take to either." Abigail reached into the bag, unsure how or if this would work. At first she felt nothing. Then, thinking of how tuna looked, smelled, tasted, and how it would be preferable in a bowl, her roving fingers came upon a rice dish. Somewhat surprised the enterprise had worked, she set the fishy prize before a purring Neko. The cat happily tucked in.

Going for a repeat performance, Abigail reached in again imagining the taste, heat, aroma, and texture of her favorite chai tea. Out came a steaming cup. After a test sip she deemed the drink near perfection.

The elf still hadn't moved. She wondered if the poor elf woman might still be paralyzed from the spiders, so again Abigail said, "Good morning," to test the theory.

The elf woman said nothing, but dry swallowed. There was a faint liquid sheen upon her cheeks and a mix of anger, sadness, and irritability both within her eyes and the press of her lips. Unfortunately, even after her morning tea, Abigail was not an apt student of socialization.

"How thoughtless, you must be thirsty. Would you like some chai?" She pointed to the cup, resorting to sign language in the event of a language barrier. "Tea?"

Still no response. Not entirely sure she'd received a yes or no, or any confirmation of paralysis for that matter, Abigail went and retrieved a second cup. After all, the elf may never have tasted chai and Abby came from a family who took joy in trying new foods for the surprise of finding they liked them.

"Here you are, nice and hot."

The elf's voice was a vacant as her stare. "I should like to be left alone."

Typically, Abigail would feel affronted at an outright dismissal, but the elf's misery did not slip past her, albeit weak and groggy, socialization radar.

"Are you alright?" Abigail asked. Now that she knew what she was looking for, the frown she received seemed to rhetorically ask 'do I look alright?' without so many words. "I see. Not up for tea. I'll just leave it here, if you'd like it later and," she reached back into the bag and pulled out a small box covered in red velvet and tied with a silver ribbon, "when I'm miserable, Indulgences make me feel a bit better. I'll be setting up breakfast momentarily; you're all welcome to it."

To end the one way heart to heart, Abigail patted the elf lightly on the shoulder, grateful it hadn't lasted any longer. She had no sense of bedside manner.

From the bag Abigail drew a light green bathrobe. Terrycloth, wonderfully soft with a pocket she could slip her wand into.

Below, Yumiko was waking, stretching broadly as though intending to make snow angles in the grass. Abigail dropped down to her knees, keeping her voice low. "Morning."

"_Ohayo_." Yumiko pressed a finger to her lips and whispered. "I keep quiet; _one-san_ sleep. _Yata,_ _koucha!_ I eat now. _Kawaii Neko-chan!"_

"Speaking of food, I don't think any of the elves have eaten—they couldn't have."

Yumiko snapped her fingers. "We have _atsui choushoku_ now."

Abigail was none too assured. "That sounds. . .appetizing?"

Dramatically throwing her arms about, a good show of exasperation for ridiculous English speakers, Yumiko said, "Morning meal. I get hot potato onion," she paused as if finding the right word but not satisfied by what she conjures up, "omelet. It Korean. You will see, taste _oishi_. And peaches, 1200 yen from corner market and oranges; short rice, not bad Westerners make for the _onigiri_—"

"Right; best let you to it. I'm going to see if—" she wanted to find out where Tyelco had run off to, except she was confronted by the sight of some edhel/elf tentatively reaching for Arielle's weapons and she immediately knew which arrogant buffoon had sent the unsuspecting subordinate to do his dirty bidding. Abigail pulled out her wand. "The devil! What are you—leave off I say!"

There were sparks crackling off into the air. The elf got the picture. His hands were up in a show of deference, and while Abigail certainly couldn't understand a word from his mouth, she still heard: _"This so was not my idea, I swear I'm just doing what I was ordered. Please don't turn me into a newt."_

"Do you have any idea how dangerous guns can be? And that's even with normal people who have some vague notion of which end to hold, honestly!" Then she caught sight of a scowling Nessimon heading their way.

"Off I said." Abigail shooed the underling-elf. "And _you_, Lieutenant, I have a few words for." She smelled something foul, and it wasn't Neko on the wrong side of her tuna.

"Of all the stupid, childish things to do. We're perfectly willing to coordinate our defenses with you, _co-ordinate_. It's much too dangerous for us to go unarmed and guns are too dangerous to be handled by anyone who doesn't know the proper safety precautions."

Nessimon huffed, "We and we alone are responsible for the defense of our wood and you have trespassed—"

"We hadn't any say in coming—"

"Until the time you can prove—"

"Proof? We rescued your arses and not _we_ have those things after _us_—"

"A convenient way to win—"

"We risked our lives—"

"Not a risk if—"

"Niobe could die! You think that a ploy?"

"For an urk?" He sneered.

"She's a jedi! They all commit suicidal acts of compassion, no matter the evil seething from the crackpot!"

From the ringside Niobe's weary voice added, "His name was Aegnor."

Abigail shouted, "See there, you've woken them up," though Arielle slept on.

Deaf to all adan, Nessimon continued. "Deception wears many clever masks and nothing I have seen of you eases my suspicions. It is well within reason that if you do not hand over your weapons peaceably I will have you arrest—"

POOF

Before Nessimon could blink, a purple cloud shot from Abigail's wand. His once immaculate hair was instantly an unattractive shade of plumb. For a moment, the camp went silent, holding its breath to see if any further damage was to be done. It was Yumiko who broke the tension by doubling over, then collapsing to the ground in a fit of laughter.

Elves, (whose complexions are as near perfection as a flesh and blood creation can be) do not turn puce with anger, but Nessimon came as close as elvenly possible (though it may have been the tinge his hair now reflected). He was so enraged his voice momentarily failed him and Abigail took over.

"Now you see here!" She jabbed her purple-sparking wand in the general direction of his chest for good measure. "I could turn you into a pebble to carry in my pocket, or something edible so we could have breakfast, like the sack-of-potatoes you are. In fact, you couldn't stop any of us. You'd be unconscious before you ever knew Arielle was there; Niobe could mislead you with a mind trick, and I'm sure Yumiko could put you in a state of blissful oblivion. The point is, I can think of a million ways to kidnap the lot of you that'd be far easier than the shit we've been through the past two days, and that's without getting creative."

"You've made my point, adan. You're dangerous."

Two simultaneous, surprising things happened; Nessimon was at a loss for words, and the once-vacant-elf lady-who-was-now-quite-alert was glided to Abigail's side. It suddenly struck the tiny girl just how tall and imposing an elf could be. "Nessimon, that's enough." Her long, shaky fingers clung to the heart-shaped box. Her eyes glimmered wet with tears, her appearance hovering between shock, hysterics, and anger.

"Oh dear," Abigail said, touching the poor lady's elbow. "Are you alright? Why not sit for a moment . . ."

Hysterics must have given way, Abigail supposed, because the lady smiled in an I-only-laugh-because-I-don't-want-to-cry sort of way. The lady took her hand, displaying the chocolates. "My husband is dead; you have eased my grief. There are no words to express my gratitude."

Abigail was caught in her own stupor. Every elf in the glen was staring and she hadn't the faintest clue what she'd done—it was just tea and chocolates. . . "Chocolate? Are you having a psychotic episode over candy—"

"Is that what they are called? You must forgive me; I was not listening when you told me before. Did you not also call them Indulgences?"

"That's the name of the brand, or at least the sweet shop I get the chocolate from back home. It's off Fifth Avenue in downtown Wellington. They sell wine and cheese too. A little piece of heaven. But there are all sorts of places that make chocolate, and factories, and there are thousands of kinds. . .I see you had the expresso truffle; excellent. Try the dark forest ones. And the White Russians. Doesn't your kind have chocolate? Sort of standard comfort food, isn't it? Or maybe your world doesn't have chocolate. I can't imagine never having tasted chocolate before. Sounds awfully depressing" Taking a moment away from her self indulged rant, Abigail noticed that the elven lady's eyes had grown strikingly wider against her face. "Sure you're alright? Bother, sit down! You're not well."

"No, I think not; he is gone." Fresh tears rolled down her face. "But I am better, better than I should have been without your help."

Abigail still didn't understand what exactly she'd done. "Help? What did I do this time?"

The lady laughed for the earnest look on Abigail's face, tears still rolling out of her eyes. All the elves were still watching.

"I am ill adan, ill with grief as only my kind can be, and your Indulgences have made the grief easier to bear."

"Oh! That's just the endorphins and caffeine from the espresso bean. And sugar. Rather a lot of sugar. It's enough to give you a lift, but the rest is up to you. Just don't eat too much of it; you'll give yourself a stomach ache."

It then occurred to Abigail that more could be at work here than simple endorphins; after all, she was a witch and in Harry Potter, chocolate had healing properties after dementor attacks. Was it possible that the chocolates the elven lady had eaten were magical chocolates? _Best not to mention it_, Abigail thought after glancing at the irate Nessimon.

The lady shook her head bemusedly, bent down, and embraced Abigail. "I shall not forget you, nor your advice. . . "

"Abigail."

"Abigail. I am Ondolle. Would it be alright to share these with my sister, Vé?"

It was then that Nessimon found his voice. "No! You have no idea what spell she's placed upon them, what it's doing to you—"

Ondolle soundly rounded upon Nessimon, her outrage distorting her smooth features. "What evil is there in sparing me a mortal death? What evil was the act of rescuing us? I heard every word Tyelco has said, I know they risked much. Is it too much to risk a little for them?"

Nessimon then said something in his own language which left Ondolle in such a state that Abigail felt certain she'd hit the stupid man.

"You go too far." A dark haired elf, really the only dark haired elf, inserted himself between the two. "She has lost her husband, and you have the tact of an orc."

"Stay out of these matters, Noldor—you are a visitor in our wood. You have no say in matters of security."

"Well, being as I and the ladies are the only ones not directly under you command, someone must speak the truth; you are paranoid. And if Captain Nusirilo were alive, you'd have been reprimanded to speak to a lady so!"

Abigail patted Ondolle on the elbow again as they both turned away from the argument which had progessed back into elvish. "Don't bother with what the tosser says, Ondolle. You should have heard the horrible things he accused Arielle of, and she's the most honorable woman I've even met, even if she is American."

Ondolle blinked. "What's an American? Are they not usually trustworthy?"

Abigail opened her mouth, then closed it.

It was best not to remark on the trustworthy bit (who knew what Arielle might overhear even if she appeared to still be sleeping through this racket). It was also sobering reminder of where she was. "Sorry. I keep forgetting that I'm not in my world anymore. I mean, imagine no one ever hearing of a country as big and bullish as the States, let alone a little island at the bottom of the world."

Her lip quivered, her eyes stung. Yumiko had made her way over and gave Abigail a hug. Huffing as the tears fell, Abigail said, "I, I think I need some chocolate too."

Niobe waved them all over. The three mortals and the elf sat, ate a little chocolate. As Yumiko's breakfast came together, they laid out on a long picnic cloth surrounded by little sitting pillows, with civilized chop stick and plates to eat the food with. Enticed by the food, the rest of the elves slowly made their way over, while Nessimon sullenly watched at the wayside. Before all food was gone, Ondolle wandered to the wood with some chocolate, and a few moments later returned with a somewhat broader-shouldered lady and properly introducing her as Vé.

The rest introduced their selves, if less enthusiastic and somewhat more skeptical: Altéru, Falion, Veryatur, and Hereno rounded out the group.

They weren't a noisy bunch, by any means, but even the half-oblivious Abigail had noticed their numbers were one short and that Tyelco and Niobe kept one eye each upon her.

Arielle, Arielle who had not slept in days, had not awoken with the rest of them.

_A little while longer_, Abigail told herself rubbing the wand between her hands, the wood clicking every time it struck her platinum ring,_ Just a little while, and then it's the old _evernerate_ for her._

oOo

Arielle had three dreams that night. The first began with everyone clamoring into the ol' family station wagon affectionately named "Bertha". The passengers were her older twin brothers, Lucas and Ian, and Morpheus, King of Dreams of Gaiman's The Sandman. She drove, Ian had shotgun, and Lucas took the back with a glowering Morpheus (who pressed himself into the darkest corner, his sharp red eyes reflecting in Bertha's rearview mirror).

In silence Arielle drove them to a white beach where she and Morpheus disembarked. Lucas drove the car away.

Morpheus was a sight to behold: his skin stark white in the glaring bright sunlight, his bedhead black hair the color of the ether. His glowing eyes reflected in the sand, speckling the crystalline white granules with red. He chose the spot. He sat. She lay down nearby to avoid having to suffer the beautiful, harsh light reflected from the perfect blue water.

It was the winter solstice. Arielle was sure of it, as sure and all knowing as one can only be in a dream. Morpheus could only withstand the light here on this day, at this time, and he hadn't a ride this year. He never would have asked for one. He never needed to.

The sun slipped half-past the horizon.

"Thank you, Elle." She could hear the gravelly, jagged black font in his endless voice. Eddie Tsang used to call her Elle, as in Elle Driver of Kill Bill, and the memory made her smile.

"No problem." Arielle sat up.

Morpheus took a handful of sand, kissed her forehead, and walked away.

Her second dream began. The beach was normal again with the usual sand, water, and palm trees. And it was morning anew.

"Surf's up. You in?" Leland Chapman asked.

"Hella yeah!" Arielle sprinted after him in a striped yellow and blue bikini, happy to be in the Hawaiian paradise. "I had the biggest crush on you when I was nine. Three brothers and a dad, so figures we watched the show all the time." After a moment's thought, she added, "You're still hot."

They both burst out laughing, and he splashed into the surf.

Arielle liked brunets. Tattoos turned her on. Following the massive gothic cross rippling over the muscles on his back, her eyebrows raised in approval, and she followed him into the ocean with her own large, red board. With a light heart, she rode waves heavy with buoyant salt. Time flew to noon, and Leland had to drag her soaked, giggling form from the water over to the luau. Tim and Dog were roasting fish (which meant Beth was 'supervising'. Tim's wife was cuddling with him by the fire). There were blonde and native Hawaiian children everywhere. Leland managed to snatch up one of his boys, hug him tight and turn the monkey upside down before the boy squirmed loose, shrieking with laughter. At some point, Ian and Lucas showed up and struck up a lively game with Duane Lee consisting of who could tell the filthiest joke.

The chaos only slowed enough for food to be shoveled into hungry mouths.

Herein, Arielle found she had the opportunity to ask the burning questions her nine-year-old's mind was plagued by

"Do you hate Mexico? You know, not the whole place, but the idiots who wanted your arrest?" Arielle asked Leland, too interested in their meeting to eat anything. Besides, food in dreams never really tastes like anything. "I always wondered because I hated them for what they did. I hated the marshals and judges because they were wrong. I mean, I know they had their laws, but that still doesn't mean what you did was wrong. I didn't understand it."

Leland laughed, which only made his lovely brown eyes glow. "No, no. Hate's a strong word. And I was willing to own what I'd done."

"But why not hate them? You did what they couldn't or wouldn't do and they were embarrassed and took it out on you. Why else would they ever want to hurt the men who stopped, of all people, Andrew Luster, serial rapist? Eighty counts of rape against him! I hate people like that. I want to hurt them right back!" Arielle did not mind sounding ten in front of Leland Chapman. She could not imagine him holding it against her.

"'If they bleed red, they're your brother'," Leland quoted in a manner imitating his father, but stifled the laugh he nearly let slip since Arielle was pouting. "It wasn't exactly a one-way pride street. Dad swore to catch Luster, boasted he was the best, and catching him was the big kahuna. There was too much pride on both sides. You remember what Eddie Tsang said about Oedipus?"

"Absolutely," said Dog, joining in. "But I also wanted justice And when I saw Luster and his crazy eyes staring right back, I knew that all my days of bounty hunting lead me to that, and there's no turning back."

"Pride and fate," Leland explained. "Of course, the charges against us had more to do with the fact that by catching him we challenged Mexico's _sovereignty, _and that upset them more than us stopping a serial rapist from assaulting their women. But there's no question. I'd do it again. It was the right thing to do before it was legal."

"In spite," agreed Tim and Dog.

Arielle found herself interested in the possibility that what they'd done was something they'd been compelled to by Powers that Be. Because sometimes, now and again, she got the same feeling. "It was fate. I could feel it too. That's why—you see my scars?" Arielle proudly showed them the scar running through her skin streaking over her sternum. "I always wanted some cool scars ever since I was little. That's probably why the idea of the surgery didn't bother me much. When I was under, the doctors had a lot of trouble getting my heart to beat again. No one told me about how hard it was to start up after I was off the table and in ICU. I only know because I just came up to the surface near the end of surgery, my eyes closed and all drugged up and not feeling pain. I wasn't breathing at all. Everything in me was still, and I wasn't afraid. I could hear a nurses' voice—she was worried. I wasn't. I knew I was fine because I could _feel_ I wasn't done yet. I just wondered 'how does one breathe? How does one make a heart beat? Oh, yes' and they started up again, just like that—" Arielle snapped her fingers. "And this is where I got shot." She pulled the bikini top a bit to the side, revealing the pale sunburst scar against her freckled breast. A swelling of pride welled up in her as all the men were impressed at the ruggedness of her scar. "I felt it again when I was shot; that I wasn't going to die because I hadn't met my moment yet."

"It will come," Leland assured and pointed to the darkness amid the palm forest.

The third dream began.

The blackness sucked her in; she was in the palms; the scales of their trunks scratching and pressing her in for the Nothing, C.T., was strangling her. To her surprise, Arielle recognized his face! She knew his name; she'd seen a picture of him once and here he was choking her in palm trees. She was struggling, but could not escape from his grasp. She was dying. Using all her strength she warred against his fingers, losing moment by moment without strength enough on her own, her own red blood trickling down her palm bark scratched body, bloody red, red everywhere, red eyes, she needed—"Mor-!" She choked, drowning on her blood from the inside.

_Morpheus!_ It never made it past her lips.

Arielle saw red starbursts behind her eyes just before awaking from Abigail shaking her. And pain. Pain in breathing, such pain everywhere.

"Ah!!!" Abigail shouted. "You hit me!

Yeah. She'd done that. There had been a nightmare . . . it was fading . . . she tried to hold on . . .

Gone. Nothing.

"Ty-Ty!" Arielle wheezed, trying to even out her breathing. Once the first few treacherous breaths were over, breathing became bearable. "Tylenol!"

"_Hai_!"

Arielle blessed that which was dependable.

Small, thin fingers clasped her hand and placed three round capsules inside.

"You were having a fit. Nightmare, I warrant? I didn't sleep so well either; drempt of jumping off a white tower." Abigail verbally shuttered. "It was the strangest thing. I bolted across a rampart and dove off head first. Imagine, me _trying_ to kill myself, and he caught me by the ankle, just plucked me out of the air, and instead of being afraid of hitting the spires below I was terrified _he'd_ die. . ."

"Who was this?" Niobe asked.

"Who?"

"_Him_."

"Errr. . .dunno. It just felt like a boy. What did you dream about, Arielle?"

Arielle growled. She could smell something like bacon, raisin oatmeal, and spiced cider in the air and what was that ache. . .son of a bitch, she'd be getting her period tonight or tomorrow. She could beg tampons off Yumiko, if the kid even knew what those were. Talk about embarrassing conversations. She caught a whiff of something akin to rotten eggs emanating from the vicinity of an armpit. They all needed bathes. Opening her eyes, the faces of Yumiko and Abigail hovered before her vision. Trusty Yumiko displayed a steaming cup.

Because it was obvious she'd had a nightmare, Arielle didn't feel obligated to elaborate on what she'd dreamt. Sitting up and glaring was hard enough work. And she couldn't really remember what she'd dreamed anyway, nothing except red eyes. _Not what, who. Think . . . Morpheus!_

"_Koucha! Oishi!"_ Yumiko pressed the cup closer as Arielle struggled to sit.

"_Kouhi?"_ Arielle asked hopefully.

"_Iiye!"_ Yumiko stuck out her tongue and made a face. _"Koucha ii!"_

"Do you follow any of this?" Abigail asked Niobe who rested on her mat a little ways off, behind the blonde by a cook fire, warm food steaming nearby. Laid out on a long cloth were the remains of a large breakfast.

"None."

Arielle finished swallowing her tea, finding it the source of the cider-y smell. "How you holding up, Niobe?"

"I fear I have caught a fever. And the painkillers have worn down a bit, though I cannot say I miss them."

"Bummer." During Niobe's reply Arielle noticed she had an elf observer sitting at the foot of her mat. He was the only elf around at all. "Hello." And then to Niobe, "Why do I get the feeling I missed out on all the fun this morning?"

Abigail quickly stepped in, though not with a direct answer. "Arielle, this is Ristar."

Ristar inclined his head, a faint smile on his lips, and held out a hand for her to shake within easy reach. Of course, Arielle accepted with pleasure.

"Nice to meet you." Arielle meant it.

"I taught him to shake!" Abigail interjected.

"I teach him to bow," added Yumiko. "He star student. You learn next. You do it wrong, Arielle."

Abigail continued. "He's from another elven realm west of here. _Imladris_. Am I saying it right?"

"Yes, quite accurate." Ristar confirmed his voice a pleasant soft timbre. "I am an old-accustomed visitor of Mirkwood, at least in this corner of the woods. I've been given you as charges for the time being. My hosts have gone to bid their kin safe journey to Mandos before carrion cause further damage."

"Funeral," Abigail whispered in Arielle's ear.

The cogs in Arielle's head slowly turned, first making her feel embarrassed for asking, then mortified for being a cause of some of the physical 'damage' herself, and then blind panic.

"Where?! Are they idiots?! We can't split up." She reached for her gun and ammo to find them missing.

"Here." Abigail groped about behind her, and then produced the weaponry. "I had to take it. That oaf Nessimon—"

"_Lieutenant_ Oaf Nessimon." Ristar corrected with a smile poised on his lips.

"_Lieutenant_ Oaf Nessimon suspects we're up to no good."

Arielle snorted, taking her gun, muttering under her breath.

"And he wanted us all disarmed. It's lucky I was already awake—"

Yumiko covered her mouth to suppress a fit of giggles.

"For while I generally agree that guns are a detriment to, and obsolete in modern society, we're nowhere near modern society and being as you've proven yourself responsible enough to handle it safely—"

"I cherish your vote of confidence."

"—And that it has proven to be an invaluable source of protection for everyone, I felt it in our best interest that you retain sole ownership as you're the only one who knows how to operate it. I mean, honestly! Nessimon—"

"_Lieutenant."_

Abigail clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "Fine. Lieutenant Nessimon hasn't the faintest clue of what a gun is or how to work it or even how not to upset the safety! It would be like passing a bomb off to a three-year-old child for safekeeping. The last thing I need is to wake up without a head. Again. And not that I mind you, Ristar,"

He inclined his head peaceably.

"But leaving us with naught but a babysitter for defense is a rather poor show of tactical prowess for a _Lieutenant_ and I tried to make him see reason—"

And here a torrent of giggles spewed past Yumiko's hand, shouting: "She curse his hair purple!"

Arielle sputtered out a laugh. It didn't matter that it hurt to do so.

Abigail puffed up indignantly. "Only after he refused to listen to me, and I had to threaten to turn him into something useful, like the sack-of-potatoes he is because he wouldn't leave off your gun, and then he threatened to have me arrested of all preposterous things, and only _then_ did I turn his hair purple just to make sure everyone knew I could turn him into potatoes, were I so inclined."

"Could you, really?" Niobe asked.

Abigail hung her head and sighed. "No. I couldn't even turn a teacup into a tea cozy. I'm not even sure how I turned it purple; I'd intended to cover his perfect face in spots."

If she weren't already in a load of pain, Arielle would have found something hard to hit her head against. "You'll be quiet if you want to maintain my confidence in _you_. So," Arielle turned to Ristar, "was it Lieutenant Jackass' idea to split up for a funeral?"

Ristar spoke in a calculated tone. "Mayhap it was not the most tactically sound decision, for much at this time is uncertain. But it was a choice of devotion and homage for us, and may spare Ondolle the full force of Grief for her husband."

"I empathize, really," Arielle replied because she sort of could imagine it, "but I'd prefer not to have _another_ funeral."

"You misunderstand; they are the same thing."

Incredulously, Arielle raised an eyebrow. And smacked herself in the forehead, glaring at Niobe. "Argh! Now you have me doing the eyebrow thing!"

Niobe shrugged.

With acquiescence, Ristar spoke. "I forget; you know little of our world, let alone elf-kind. Tyelco has told you elves are immortal, has he not?"

"Yeah."

"And so we are, save for death by one of two causes. While mortals may die by any number of poisons, wounds, infections, illness, age, starvation—"

"We're aware of the concept."

"Elves may only suffer a mortal death by fatal injury or Grief. Ondolle and Alassello were bound to one another ages ago. Vé is sister to Ondolle and greatly bereaved. That Ecetince, uncle to Alassello, was also killed does not improve matters."

"They're the other group?" Arielle suddenly remembered that the number rescued and the body count hadn't equated with the elves at Tyelco's platform.

"It appears that the night before our talan was attacked their hunting party was captured in another part of the wood. Or nearly all. Herendil, a friend to the family and Hereno's brother, is missing entirely. It is hoped that he escaped to safety, but I doubt he could have made it far. It is likely he was killed in the struggle, or alone in the woods, before help could be reached. Of the five, only Ondolle and Vé survive."

"Did you know them, the ones who died?" Arielle asked, immediately wishing to stick her foot in her mouth, even if Ristar didn't outwardly seem to mind.

"I met Ecetince many, many ages ago during a war you are not likely to have heard of, and again during the Last Alliance, which from your faces does not sound familiar either. Bowman by trade, harpist by hobby, Ecetince was. Alassello had a fine voice, though I met him no more than a few times in passing, and his wife not at all save this morning. Wistful it is, but I now regret never having the chance. Better did I know Captain Nusirilo and Ohtal from the guard. You must forgive me and ask after them later. I knew them only what could amount to a few years, but their abrupt parting keeps the ache near."

Of its own accord, Arielle's mind drew her back to the sight of Tyelco cradling his dead friend and felt a new blanket of helplessness shrouding the terrible mess. If what Ristar was saying was true and grief gave elves physical injury, poor Ty had suffered an injury at the river, one she could not fathom. While in her lifetime she had suffered her own grief—acute, miserable, and to some degree physical—she didn't want to know what it felt like to have grief sharpened into a deadly weapon, twisting into the heart worse than a surgeon's scalpel . . .

"So grief, all on its own, is deadly for elves? Is that what Ondolle meant?" Abigail asked in a somewhat impressed, inquisitive tone.

Sensing that this was about to bring about a barrage of intrusive questions on Abby's part, Arielle snapped, "It isn't a lecture topic, Abby. Try and be a little less sensitive."

Ristar actually chuckled, somewhat subduing Arielle. He had that twinkle of laughter in his eyes once again, and it made her feel all of five-years-old. Elves seemed to have strange mood swings. Now was a good time to see what was in the pot for breakfast.

"I don't mind," Ristar assured. "I've found that explaining abstract attributes of elves to mortals promotes a far more sympathetic mindset toward the Eldar than berating them for being rude when it's no more than innocent interest in something different." Then he continued, somewhat pensively for Abby. "While we Noldor and Silvan elves are more alike than we pretend to be, it is fact that the Silvan elves here in Mirkwood have sequestered themselves from their mortal neighbors for several millennia. We Noldor from _Imladris_, or as I should have mentioned earlier, Rivendell, have a more or less regular stream of mortal visitors seeking our accomplished healers. It has made us a good deal more used to indulging the inquisitiveness of mortal curiosity."

As usual, Abby's mind had gone off on a tangent. "Rivendell? Now where did I hear . . . R-i-v-e-n-d-e-l-l? Why, that's the password to log onto Professor Utz's university account!"

Arielle had just picked up a spoon for the rice pudding, and accidentally dropped it back in the pot.

Niobe sat up straight. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure! I used to post the syllabus for all the students who were early, but mostly we used it to play video clips from the internet or music and the password was 'Rivendell'. And—this is so infuriating!—I know he told everyone a story or riddle and I guessed 'Rivendell', which he let slip was his password, but I can't remember how I knew that was the answer. I can't believe I've forgotten; Utz reminded me exactly of Professor Lupin, such a passionate teacher, and not the actor David Thewlis with that ridiculous mustache, because he looked exactly the way Lupin ought to have looked, only without the scars and very handsome besides—"

"You had a girlly crush on your professor, didn't you?" Arielle accused, holding back laughter.

Yumiko chorused:

"You want to hug him,

you want to kiss him,

you want his ba—"

"Stop it!" Abigail was flushed with embarrassment. "Utz _is_ handsome, speaks seven languages (and is learning French); he's fun, and charming, and is head over heals for Chaucer (reads it in perfect Middle English, oh you should hear!), and so enthusiastic and," Abigail found everyone smirking at her, so shouted accusatively: "You'd have a crush on him too!"

"Uh-huh," Arielle muttered conversationally.

Abby huffed. "Anyway, he tended to get sidetracked on rants every now and again, and I just know he told us the story behind that password. I knew it was 'Rivendell'. I knew something about 'Rivendell', probably a lot on it, and I can't help wondering if your home of 'Rivendell' has to do with Utzs' 'Rivendell', since I've been having trouble remembering tidbits of books and songs and film. That, why that would mean I knew about this world!"

"The book thief!" Yumiko shouted, furious.

"Who?" Ristar asked, prompting Abigail to once again explain about the libraries in her head and how entire shelves of books and media were missing. Arielle knew something of the alleged change in their minds, as Niobe had described and shared a furtive look with the Jedi. Hearing it from this perspective was positively disturbing.

"C.T.," she cursed softly.

"I may be of some assistance," Ristar volunteered after Abby had finished. "After all, I have lived in Rivendell most all my days and its lore is dear to me. It seems that whatever captured your memories may not have been thorough, if you remember this detail. Often, in recovering lost memories, it only takes one thought to bring about the rest. Perhaps if you could better explain what 'Rivendell' was a password for, together we might be able to work out why your professor chose it."

"Like I said, his online—oh heavens! You haven't a clue what I'm talking about."

Arielle snorted. "They live in _trees_, without _toilets_. No offense, Ristar. What were you expecting, Abby?"

"Shut it," Abigail groused, then turned back to Ristar. "You like books Ristar?"

"Yes," he confirmed cautiously. Arielle settled down with a nice bowl of cinnamon pudding for the show.

"Yumiko, I believe this calls for a demonstration. You wouldn't be able to pull one of those cute e-books from that marvelous bag of yours, would you?"

"Hai!" Yumiko scrambled over to her bag, dug about for several moments, then held up the slim white device triumphantly before handing it over to Abigail.

"Me next!" Arielle dropped her bowl and scrambled over now recognizing the full potential of Yumiko's bag, and only half joking said: "Santa, I want shampoo, an ipod with Smashing Pumpkins, and Nancy Sinatra, and Rage Against the Machine, and Evanescence. . ."

Holding down the power button to the e-book, Abby squealed as the start-up screen appeared. "It's perfect!"

"I put all Harry Potter on it for you," Yumiko explained, causing Abby to squeal and throw her arms around her.

Then, taking a second glance at the screen, she became quite disheartened. "It's in Japanese!"

"What you expect?" Yumiko snatched back the e-book and changed the setting to English, muttering in mock irritation about presumptuous Westerners all the while, then thrusting it back as though the device were somewhat tainted now. "There!"

Abby accepted it, holding it and cooing as though someone had passed her a baby. Her gaze fixed, she began scooting up beside Ristar. "See Ristar? Isn't it the neatest little contraption ever made?"

Quite rightly, Ristar was viewing the entire scene with intensely incredulous confusion. With an air of accepting something menial from a child as means to humor it, he tentatively looked at the tableau Abigail presented him with.

And looked.

And _blinked_, unsure that his eyes were still functioning.

"See here," Abigail moved her finger over a delineated square surface at the bottom of the plaque. A pointed symbol on the illuminated top portion of the plaque mimicked her finger's movement across what must have been what they referred to as English letters. "I select this just so," the space around the letters darkened, the letters lightening, "And up comes _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_, the entire book! I just select the scroll bar, and down we go, hundreds and hundred of pages. And with the illustrations, oh Yumiko it's beautiful! What else is on here? Oh, manga, of course. I should have expected that, the dear."

Words. There were no words in the tongues of elves, man, dwarves, halflings, not even black speech for something . . . something like this.

Tyelco had tried to warn them. Ristar thought he'd understood when Tyelco had insisted that the _adan_ weren't really _adan_; that they were altogether different, were not of _Arda_, were alive by sheer force of will-to-live, and were blessed with unimaginable power.

"Is . . . I know it isn't alive, but how then . . .?" Ristar managed.

"It isn't magic, if that's what you mean. Just a clever machine."

"It . . . thinks?"

Arielle burst out laughing, nearly choking on air, as she received her ipod from Yumiko.

"No, heavens no! At least, not like you and I think, as living beings. It's programmed, meaning it isn't alive; people use a code to set up cause and effect commands, and it's not as if it can do anything without a living operator initiating the sequence."

Ristar's mind whirled. "But it gives off light and sound! I can hear it humming . . ."

"That's because it's run by electricity, silly," Abby giggled. "Sorry, I just can't imagine what it must be like for you. I mean, I can't imagine my life without devices like this for music and movies and chatting casually with friends miles away, on the other side of the world in fact, as though they were at my side . . . all my creature comforts to make home wherever I may be. But without any basic understanding of the mechanics of it all, well, it may as well be magic, I suppose."

"To answer the question you haven't asked since Abby's ranting," Arielle interrupted, "Electricity is what makes up lightening. Something like that notebook doesn't need a whole lot of electricity to run. The metals inside act as conductors, like lightning rods (I'm sure you're at least familiar with barns having them, being immortal and all) and after that, there's probably some chemical reactions and shit so complicated not even Abby understands and _voilà_; an e-notebook with enough memory to hold a million pages of text. Totally cool. Not as cool as lasers and DVDs and movies, but from the look on your face, your poor little heart probably couldn't take the shock. Maybe we try again tomorrow, _ne_?"

It occurred to Ristar that all of _Middle-Earth_ could not withstand the shock. "Then your weapon—"

"Doesn't work like that notebook." Arielle replied in sharp staccato. "Just old-fashioned propulsion and black power. And if you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm not stupid enough to tell you. Or anyone for that matter."

The red-haired woman suddenly went silent, and what faint rouge had brightened her freckled cheeks drained.

"Are you alright?" Abigail asked. "You've gone pale. Is it your chest?"

"No. This is a bad idea. Bad juju. We shouldn't be telling them this stuff."

Abigail rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

"If word of this technology gets out, they can be dangerous. Ten seconds ago I was ready to pass out CB radios so we could split up, but think about it. This is a military installation; the mortals and immortals don't get along all that well. Think about it! If I ask you, Abby, how to make an atomic bomb, well, _how_? And I'd bet good money you'd be able to tell me how to do it, in theory at least, right?"

Abigail went unnaturally pale, her skin puckering at the roots of her hairs as mortals had wont when afraid. Whatever the poor female _adan_ knew, it was certainly something she did not wish in the hands of either enemies or friends. As such, Ristar was not foolish enough to ask after it, nor speak of it ever again. In his time, he had heard tales of too many things which, in one hand was a boon, in another a bane. By nature, elves were far more inclined to let things be as they are in nature than to pull them apart to uncover their inner workings.

The girls sat silent for a moment.

Niobe sighted. "I am disappointed I did not think of it sooner. After all, I believe it is a Star Trek prime directive not to share technology with less advanced worlds, and the New Republic had similar, sensible regulations in place." Niobe then murmured, "I despise being ill."

Ristar heard Arielle mutter, "Watching you be ill's worse," though he did not believe the other heard her.

Arielle thethen, out of the blue, solemnly stated to Ristar: "I'm not gonna shoot any of you elves, you know that, right?"

The gift of the Valar allowed Eldar to see something of the soul in the eyes of others, especially when invited. There was much fire in her eyes, a sign of one quick to temper, but Ristar could see its kindling had more to do with love than outright anger.

"I believe it would be an unimaginable, insufferable elf, one which would have to be of great annoyance and much deserving for you ever to shoot an eldar, _Narielle_." Ristar chuckled, imagining an Arielle subjected to Rivendell's trouble-makers-in-chief, the twins. "Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Not that I won't show my teeth now and again," Arielle warned.

"Only to be expected." And it was of four young . . . whatever these females were . . . caught among strangers, surrounded by unfamiliar danger.

"So we have an understanding? Bad idea for us to share stuff?"

Not the most eloquent of treaties, but entirely understandable. For the first time while visiting Mirkwood, Ristar wished Lord Elrond or perhaps a stray _istari_ were around. Old as he was, he was not used to thinking in terms of world-wide repercussions. He was not an elf cut out for such things. "Speaking for myself, yes. I do not know the knowledge you speak of, and were I to know it, I cannot be sure I am suited to predict the impact of such things—" and here Ristar indicated the e-notebook, "—upon our kind. But I imagine the four of you have drawn much attention these past few days, not all of it friendly. I know not how such knowledge may be refashioned, so I find it best to leave it to you until, perhaps, those wisest in the ways of our world might judge it. I will speak on your behalf, as Tyelco has and I'm sure will continue to, and not of what you have shown me. But I am not of Mirkwood. Truly, they have suffered much in a short time. Do not expect them to exert much energy in understanding, not in the wake of their loss. Be patient with them. You four are . . . disquieting. Whatever happened the other night left Lieutenant Nessimon in a state of near-hysteria. If he received such a shock as I have, his life in the balance besides . . . be most patient with him."

"I'll talk to jackass when he gets back," Arielle assured. "Privately. People are stupid, a person is smart, so the saying goes. We'll talk gun safety. As in, when the gun is with me, the gun is safe."

So entirely like _adan_, so entirely not. "It will be a start."

"You know what else we should do before everyone gets back?" Abigail asked excitedly.

"_Nani_?" Yumiko inquired.

"Baths." Arielle asserted.

"Ice cream!" shouted Yumiko.

"Chocolate truffles," Niobe added

"_Bathes,"_ Arielle reiterated.

In a very short time, Ristar found the conversation and business turning to the far more mundane topics of the immediate—what to feed the elves when they finally returned (and here he had to assure them that elves did not typically fast after funerals, though it was unlikely they would be terribly hungry), finding a way to take proper bathes, medicine, standing watch. Now and again, he heard snatches about missing toilets, which strangely sounded to be everywhere in their world, as Yumiko claimed to never have _not_ used them before arriving in Arda.

He also found it odd that Yumiko seemed to instinctively know where to find the nearest hot spring, the location of which he confirmed. The way in which they set about planning a trip to the springs made Ristar realize that these girls were not in the least bit acquainted with restriction of movement. For while their eye might scan the woods for danger now and again, none seemed keen to include the likely response of the Mirkwood guards to such an excursion.

But there was one thing Ristar, who had many century's experience with mortals and Silvans, was certain of: these endearing young ladies who had saved his life were less in danger of this vague see-tee they spoke of than the prejudices of Silvan elves.

**Glossary:**

_One-san_ (J): my older sisters

_Yata, koucha_ (J): hooray, tea

_Kawaii _(J): cute

_Atsui choushoku _(J): hot breakfast

_Koucha _(J): tea

_Oishi_ (J): yummy

_Kouhi_ (J): coffee

_Iiye_ (J): ew

_Koucha ii_ (J): tea's good

_Nani_ (J): what?

_Kirei _(J): pretty


End file.
